Earth and Sea
by missusXwicked
Summary: This may be my last chance to tell Legolas of my cherished, secret burning passion for him. But I wonder if we do continue to Mirkwood, would I have the courage to tell him all that I feel? A Legolas and O/C story.
1. The Journey

I don't own anyone or anything except the noble people of Imtros. Many props to J.R.R.T. for writing such an awesome trilogy (and many other killer stories). Trust me, if I owned anyone from LOTR they would be locked in my basement. This is the first fanfic I have ever written based on the Lord of the Rings and I hope it comes out okay. I have written three sample chapters here. Having not read the books as many times as I have read the Harry Potter books, I'm not sure if I'll be able to get the feeling right. (If I misrepresent anything in any way please oh please won't you tell me?) This is an OC story and I don't give a flying fuck if that makes me a sad fangirl type person. OC stories are meant to be enjoyed by the writer, not the reader. I'll try to make this interesting for you though. (see if you can't find another books' influence*wink*) Much love, Missus Wicked -or- 6brigid_maiden6 on Vampirefreaks.

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The Shreya Jaidev (pronounced "Sh-ray-ah Jay-Dehv") manuscript is the earliest known eyewitness account of The Quest to Destroy the One Ring. Here I have translated it to a context which can be understood by modern people. I have tried to abridge as little as possible, for it is an extraordinary document, describing in vivid detail events which occurred thousands of years ago.

A word should be said about Shreya Jaidev who speaks to us with such a distinctive voice despite the passage of so many years, and the filter of transcribers and translators from a dozen linguistic and cultural traditions. We know almost nothing of her society but what she divulges in the following passages. Apparently in current maps the Island of Imtros has disappeared or has been renamed as much of the ancient cities and lands have been. From what Shreya states, it was somewhere in the Mid- Atlantic, that it was not particularly large, and that it was a rich nation when Shreya lived there. Precious sea stones were said to wash upon it's shore, and it's main river flowed with silver. Such tales are easily dismissed. What cannot be dismissed however, are the tales of a great power her people were in possession of, thought by most historians to be the refined use of solar power (though this is debatable as you will read on), perfected by the Imtrans, and lost when the civilization was. It is possible that the fables of Atlantis were based on this nation. Of Shreya Jaidev herself we know more. She is clearly an intelligent and observant woman, although she writes for none but her own record. She is interested in both the every day details of life and the beliefs of the people she meets. Much that she witnessed struck her as both barbaric and obscene, and other things as highly civilized as her own culture, perhaps more so. She has a fascination with the elves and their culture as you will read, and every word that she writes sings true. In any case, the reader may judge for him or her self.

* * *

The fifteenth sun of the seventh moon of my second journey to Middle Earth ~ Rivendell.

Long has it been since I, Shreya Jaidev, daughter of King Amar and Queen Avanti of The Great Kingdom of Imtros have seen the wide plains and high cold mountains of Middle Earth. I have missed it so. Under the influence of my mother, I have begun to keep an account of my experiences. It seems prudent however, to tell the tale of my first visit to Middle Earth before recording the second.

Two hundred and four moons (Seventeen years) have passed since My father, the King received envoys from the Elves of Valinor and was urged to visit Middle Earth. My father was mistrustful of the Elves and indeed, all other races and nations. He felt in his heart that others would try to steal the secret of The Asim, our power, our life source. My father, the King, could not decide what to do. Finally, after several years, he passed the issue to the Senate to be voted upon. The men of the Senate have much greed in their hearts and perhaps in the hopes of finding an even brighter source of power, they consented to send an ambassador to Middle Earth. My father was in a bind yet again. Who to send? Being a thoroughly suspicious King, he could not decide this either.

Eventually he deemed that He himself would go and see this Middle Earth. His company included my mother, myself, his second wife Divya and her daughters, Dipka and Dipiki who were (sixteen and twenty) at the time, his third wife Esha, and the Elven envoy, Elaebrylla of the House of Fëanor. In his stead as king, he left my brother Rama, a man he "trusts in more than the power of The Asim."

With us came many of our best soldiers, sailors and servants to protect us, though we needed it not with the power of The Asim on our weapons and the teachings of the Chanda in our minds.

(She does not state exactly what the Chanda is, but we can assume from these writings that it is a fighting technique with both offensive and defensive purposes.)

But my father insisted. We bore gifts to the Elf kings, their wives, and their children. My father protested this much, but under the influence of my mother he relented. My father is a noble man, but sometimes he is tedious, miserly and talks overmuch.

We spent three moons on the open Ocean, although we could have reached the shores of Middle Earth in a more timely manner if we had traveled straight across The great sea of Belegaer and come to the Ethir Anduin delta, I believe it was, in the great Kingdom of Gondor, but under the council of Elaebrylla, my father proclaimed that this was not a safe road. We traveled by way of the primitive ships of the Elves to the gulf of Lhun and something called the Grey Havens. Forgive me if my memory troubles me, I was merely a child when all this was decided.

What I do not forget however, is how these Grey Havens looked to me as a girl of (eleven.) Such beauty and grace as I had never seen before. Our buildings and palaces are grand but simple in design; these were exquisite. Long, twisting pillars hold up tall and richly carved walls. The designs are so intricate you'd think that the Elven hands had painted them on the walls instead of carving them. The veiw from the pier is a spectacular scene, showing the vastness of the Ocean, our mother. All this I saw with my own eyes.

In the moments when I caught my first glimpse of Middle Earth, all that I knew about the way a world can be, expanded tremendously. It expanded ever more with each step we took. I never imagined such high rocks and mountains, such wide and endless plains, and such deep forests with trees that reached the sky it seemed. Before Middle Earth I only knew the small island nation that I called home. I knew only dense jungle, salty endless sea, and towering white stone. I only knew the dark tan faces, long jet black hair, and turquiose eyes of my own people. The fairness of the Elves was something amazing and beautiful to me. Elaebrylla had been shocking to me, when I first met him, but to see so many of his kind gathered together here was astounding. And when I learned of their immortality, I nearly fainted with awe. So fair, yet so hardy and ancient a people! To think that there was still more to learn and to see was pure ecstasy.

I feel this is enough for one day and I should like to sleep now.


	2. Beech Blossoms

The sixteenth sun of the seventh moon ~ Rivendell

I have shown what I've written to my mother and my half sisters Dipka and Dipiki. My sisters laughed and turned away, but my mother counsiled me on my writing style and encourages me to continiue.

I left you last at the Grey Havens, from there, I fell ill for two moons and remember not my first journey to Rivendell. I only know the path that we traveled from my mother. We passed between the white downs and the annuminas..some thing or other...to the Shire, where the little Hobbits live. Seeing them for the first time on my second journey, they are a strange people indeed.

With no laws or law enforcers how can they live so peacefully? They are not great warriors or counted among the very wise in this Middle Earth, but there is something inherently good and decent about them. They have no sense of conquest or power about them, like men do. Men ask how can I get more power and influence? A Hobbit might ask how can I get more cake and ale? They are remarkable. Their little holes seem charming and comfortable, never overdone like our grand halls, but I digress. It seems strange not to mention them though I'm not sure why. They do not seem to be a particularly important people to Middle Earth, and yet...I feel that they deserve mention.

We arrived in Rivendell on the seventh sun of the fifth moon of our journey. After receiving the gifts of turquiose, aquamarines, pearls, silver, and much more, Elrond himself tended to my illness and the very next day I had been cured. I look now upon the kindness of Elrond with much praise and hope that his family is blessed for all the long years of their Elf lives.

Rivendell is equally as beautiful as The Grey Havens if not more so. Large, sloping rooftops cover their fair elven heads, and below them, under the stone white water cascades down into the river below. Once more the architechure of the Elves amazed me. Elrond has one daughter, Arwen, and she is even more beautiful than my mother, and much much older. Young she is, and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched with no frost; her white arms and clear face are flawless and smooth. The light of the stars is in her grey eyes and thought and knowlege in her glance. It was she who kept me company during our stay in Rivendell. My older sisters were far too busy playing in the waters, drinking the elvish wine, and flirting with the elven men to bother with me. Arwen taught me two languages in six moons, Sindarin, and what is known here as "The common tongue." It is remarkable that so many races speak one language. I do not know whether the swiftness of my learning was the result of her elf magic, or my eagerness to learn even more,

But while I do wish to do my stay in Rivendell justice, I am most anxious to tell of the next part of my journey, so Rivendell must wait for another time, perhaps.

With swiftness we traveled over the great mountains, our final destination was the Elven King Thranduil's home in Mirkwood. Oh of what dangers we were warned! Goblins and Giants and Trolls and all manner of vicious beasts that would like nothing more than to feast on our flesh! I was terribly afraid, and Esha was so fearful that she chose to stay behind in Rivendell. Thankfully nothing befell us, the reason for that, is still unknown to me.

We reached Mirkwood on the fifth sun of the ninth moon. I will never forget the vastness of this forest, nor its' majesty. As I've said I saw many things in Middle Earth that struck me like a bell resonating from within. Mirkwood was one of these places. The twisting, towering trees were truly wonders of nature. However, it was not a particularly pleasant place. We stayed on the path that Elrond sent us, and the nights were particularly wearisome. Lighting a fire was ill advised, and we shortly saw why. The light drew monstrous moths and many eyes in the darkness. I was very much disgruntled, and in a state of mortal terror almost every day. It came as a great comfort to know that we were fast approaching the realm of the Elven King.

(It is here that Shreya begins to go into detail about her travels, signifying their importance to her.)

I learned later that King Thranduil had sent scouts into the wood and anticipated our coming, though from his greeting, you would not realize that.

I wonder how we must have looked to his scouts, they must have been mightily impressed by our grand caravan. From what I have since heard about this Elvenking, if he had not heard of what we looked like beforehand he might not have welcomed us so readily. With fifteen mounted riders striding on either side of three horse drawn carriages, my father in the front, my mother and I in the second, and Divya and her daughters in the third, we must have seemed like terribly important people. Our carriages were enclosed with the light aqua blue silk curtains hand woven by our seamstresses at the palace. Our riders carried our flag and insignia, a white crystal star on the same aqua blue background. Oh yes, we must have been a sight for those elf scouts.

The great stone doors of his city opened wide for our coming, and the king himself stood waiting for us, with all of his court. I saw dwellings of the elves in the trees and on the ground but the king's stone fortress stole most of my attention. A towering staircase as old as any I have yet seen led to richly carved wooden doors set in a great stone wall, in a stone courtyard with a beech tree in full blossom. I could not see any other part of his home, and I wondered if it was underground. The captain of our small group of soldiers dismounted and declared (poorly) in the common tongue,

"His Majesty King Amar of the Isle of Imtros sends greetings to the King of The Woodland Realm!"

Our servants brought forward the many boxes of pearls, gems, and silks, opening them before the Elvenking.

"His Majesty hopes these precious gifts from our shores will be repaid with hospitality on his journey of knowledge and understanding."

"Of course, of course!" The Elvenking laughed.

He seemed to find the formality amusing, but peeking out from behind the curtain, I did not fail to notice his light eyes lingering hungrily on the gems. My mother put a hand on my small shoulder, drawing me back inside, and making quiet worried clucking noises. I sighed. My mother straightened her royal headdress, to appear as refined as possible, as she knew my father would like her to be. She then turned to me, and made sure I was smart enough for the King. As a child of (twelve), I was not yet permitted to wear the silver breast plates and belts that my mother, Divya, Dipka, and Dipiki were. A girl does not become a woman in our culture until the age of (fifteen). I wore a blue silk sash wrapped tightly around the hard little apples that had begun to poke out of my chest. This sash was then thrown over my shoulders and crossed at the collar bone. I also was not permitted the fancy silver headresses, that rose from the older womens' temples in high points. Instead I wore only two strands of silver cord, braided through locks of my hair and pulled back, secured with a silver clasp in the shape of a dolphin. I was most definitely not impressive or regal like my parents. I often felt insignificant when I stood next to them. The nobles and senators in my kingdom may stop to pat my head, but never ask what I think...of anything.

"Her Majesty Queen Avanti Jaidev, and her daughter, Princess Shreya Jaidev.".

The captain announced my mother and I, and with a sigh, she stepped out of the carriage. I followed her to stand beside my father. Divya and her daughters followed us. All of the women bowed to the King and said,

"We are honored to meet you."

Divya and her daughters had poor pronunciation which made me smirk. Dipka and Dipiki are not particularly ugly, but they are tall and gangling, with long necks and noses, like their mother. They reminded me of geese. Their antics seemed utterly foolish to me, and yet I was jealous of their maturity. Their ability to flirt and use their womanly charms to their advantage, despite their limitations made my heart sore with envy. Their mother was (and is) also very vain, and wore much more jewelry than my mother, even though she was only the second wife. But though my father seemed to enjoy her girlish giggles, my mother remained the first wife, because she was the only one to bear him a son. My mother is a regal woman, born of noble blood and knows how to carry herself as such. Not to mention, she doesn't need jewelry to make herself beautiful.

"...and nor will you." she often said to me.

The Elvenking introduced his only son and heir, Legolas Thranduilion. He looked very much like his father, with golden hair plaited and a long, handsome face. He had an expression of seriousness, however, and did not seem to be one to trifle with. He bowed stiffly to my father, and passed his light eyes over us women. There was a certain disapproval in his gaze. I knew that their culture did not believe in polygamy and, sharing my life with people like Divya and her daughters, I privately agreed. He looked at my mother first, and the longest, then to Divya, next her daughters, and finally me, spending not more than a glance. Inwardly I resented it.

Later that night, in the gloomy, but warm underground settings of the Elvenking's keep, I fantasized that I would someday be the one who is bowed to, looked at the longest and most wonderingly.

I awoke the next morning to the sounds of my mother's worried clucking.

"You will sleep the day away, my little Shri."

Shri is my mother's nickname for me; in our language it means "radiant light." My mother often said that when Rama was away training, if it weren't for me she'd only have Divya and her two geese daughters for company. She'd said that I was her light in a dark room. My father chose my name Shreya, meaning "lucky" because my mother had a hard time bearing me, and almost lost me at one point.

"What is there to do?" I asked, grumpy and petulant.

"You could go and find someone to teach you about these wood elves' ways." she replied patiently, running an ivory comb through my hair.

"But mother, they do not wish to speak to me, I am nothing but a shadow girl to them!"

This I found, was perfectly true. At the feast the Elvenking had in our honor the previous night, I may as well have been a small fly at the table, for all the attention anyone showed me. My mother did not reply for a long while, as she fixed my hair. After setting the dolphin clasp, she clapped her hands and one of our servant girls, Neva, came and dressed me. After Neva had bowed herself out of the stone room, my mother said,

"Then you may go and spend time with Dipka and Dipiki. They are in the courtyard."

"Oh no, mother!"

"Silence! I will not stand for an idle daughter. Go."

I stood there for a moment but faltered under her fierce turquiose stare.

I headed up the long hallways, bowing to the many elves I met along the way, saying "Good Morning." In their native toungue as my mother instructed me to do. They were a merry bunch, but never stopped to talk to me.

When I reached the courtyard, I saw Dipka and Dipiki standing in their long, elegant skirts and tight, revealing sashes. They were talking to a pair of tall elven men whose names I did not know. They were batting eyelashes and laughing girlishly, speaking their own garbled version of the common toungue. I gathered my courage and walked to them.

"Why, if it isn't little Shri." Dipka said with mock delight, turning to face me.

"Not so little anymore, Dipka, just look at those little mosquito bites poking out of her sash." said Dipiki with a giggle.

They said this to me in our own language and so, the Elf men did not know how wicked they really were.

"What do you want?" said Dipka.

"My mother wishes me to accompany you today, sister."

"Ah so, Miss Perfect is trying to foist the little barnacle on us." said Dipiki.

"Well you cannot burden us today, we are going on a picnic with Millyra and Sassa here." said Dipka.

"So have fun staying home, little Shri." said Dipiki. They laughed, taking the arms of the Elf men, and strolling gaily away.

I do not believe I had ever been so reckless in my life before then, to disobey an elder. I do not know whether it was the air of mirkwood, or the simple fact that my half sisters were unbearably cruel at that moment, but I followed after them.

They walked along a dimly lit forest path, among the other elf dwellings, laughing and talking. I was hoping of course to catch them doing something wrongful so as to report it back to someone important. I stayed several (yards) behind them, jumping behind a tree on the edge of the path whenever they glanced over their shoulders, perhaps hearing me creep along. The keen ears of the Elves cannot be fooled, but whenever one of the Elf men looked back, and voiced his notion that they were being followed, Dipka or Dipiki would laugh and assure them that such a thing was preposterous. Nonetheless, the frequent jumping off the path I had to do was what caused me to fall.

On my third or fourth jump, I suddenly lost my footing and tumbled down a small, steep, slope into a stream. I was so surprised that no sound came out of my mouth, I could only watch, horrified as the cold clear water came up to meet me.

With a splash I plunged into the stream, at the same time, feeling sharp pains in my arm and leg. When I saw the red running through the water, that's when I let a small scream escape my lips. I heard the sounds of running feet above me and soon saw one of the Elf men looking down at me. Then Dipka's head appeared next to his.

"Look, your little sister has fallen into the stream!" he said.

Dipka's mouth curled into a cruel smile.

"Won't you help her, Millyra?" she said.

"I thought I heard the sounds of small feet behind us." he said as he climbed down nimbly. His strong arms scooped me out of the water.

My leg hurt terribly, but it did not hurt as much as the knowlege of how much trouble I would get into for this.

Millyra carried me back to the stone courtyard, where the one person I did not wish to see more than anyone was standing, as if waiting for my arrival.

"What has happened to this child?" Divya asked, looking down her long nose at me.

"Oh, mother..." Dipka sighed exageratedly.

"Avanti told her to come and see us. We asked her to stay behind, but she must have been so eager to obey her mother that she followed us, and she fell into the stream when she slipped off the path." said Dipiki.

Divya's mouth curled up into the same cruel smile as her daughters.

She turned to Millyra and said to him in poor common tongue,

"Thank you, young sir."

He bowed respectfully.

"Come, child." she said to me. I had no choice but to follow her. She took my arm in what would seem to be a helpful and maternal gesture, but her grip was tight, as though I were a fish that she'd been trying to catch and had finally caught.

She led me swiftly through the wooden doors, and down a path into a small room in the wing of the caves that had been given to us. I caught a glimpse of Dipka and Dipiki laughing to one another as the doors closed. My father and mother were sitting side by side on a fine couch while the Elvenking stood, talking to them. My mothers eyes grew wide as she took in my appearance, and Divya's sneer became more pronounced.

"So sorry to interrupt, your Majesty." she said in the common toungue to the Elvenking, bowing.

"Look, your Grace." she said to my father in our language. "Young Shreya has fallen into the stream, she's injured!"

"How did this happen?" my father demanded.

"She was following Dipka and Dipiki along the forest path and slipped. Apparently they asked her to stay behind, but Avanti insisted that she go with them. I'm sure she didn't mean for it to happen." she said, looking at my mother.

Her words were kind, but her intentions were wicked. I saw my mother bow her head in shame, and apologize humbly to my father who only chastised her slightly. But when she looked up at me, it was with a disappointment that reached into my soul and made me bow my head with shame as well.

My mother led me from the room gently but did not utter a word. She said nothing until my soiled clothes were discarded and Neva was dressing my small wounds. I sat on the bed in my undergarments and watched my mother pace angrily. Finally---

"Shame on you! Because of your foolishness, that woman has made _me_ look the fool in front of your father and the Elvenking!"

She paused and glared at me, making my head hang ever lower.

"You will stay in this room for the remainder of the day and night. And you will not set foot outside the courtyard again! It seems you cannot handle that responsability."

She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, slamming the door.

The next day, I was not roused by my mother but, by Neva. I asked her hopefully if my mother wanted to see me. Neva looked at me sadly and shook her head.

After Neva had dressed me and set my long black hair, I wandered the long corridors, not speaking to anyone, and no one spoke to me. I was just as unimportant as before, and now with unsightly bandages on my arm and leg.

Very soon the stifling closeness of the stone walls sent me out into the courtyard. The trees swayed in the spring breeze tantalizingly beyond the courtyard. Dipka and Dipiki passed by, smirking at me over their shoulders as they went into the wood, no doubt to meet the elves from yesterday. I sighed, close to tears. I went and sat in the shade of the beech tree in the courtyard. I tried to keep my composure, but I was only (twelve) after all. Soon I was curled into a fetal position, my head in my arms, weeping. I heard many feet pass by but none stopped to ask what was the matter. This made me cry harder. I did this for about fifteen minutes.

"It is too glorious a spring day to be so unhappy." A kind voice spoke above me.

Ordinarily a Noble Elf wouldn't even notice a young mortal like me, especially if I was making a fool of myself by crying. If he did notice me, it would have been to order me out of his way or some such thing. Yet not only had this Elf bothered to speak to me, he'd spoken kindly. He'd spoken to me in a way that suggested I might be a young woman of standing. The daughter of a good friend perhaps.

I looked up at the speaker and blinked my tears away, astonished. It was Prince Legolas Thranduilion. He was looking directly into my eyes, with a small encouraging smile on his lips. His golden hair shone in the sunlight and his fair complexion seemed to glow. I had always marveled over the fairness of the elves but his beauty extended beyond sight and into soul. I blushed and looked away.

"Be not afraid to look upon me, Shreya Jaidev." he said in that same gentle tone.

At the sound of my name, I hastily wiped the tear tracks from my face and glanced back at him. I was now embarrassed and looked away again.

"My father tells me you fell into the stream. It is nothing to be ashamed of, we all stumble from time to time."

I was amazed that he knew all this and had troubled to remember it. I looked at him again.

"Thank you for your kindness." was all I managed to say.

He smiled and reached up to finger a twig of blossoms from the beech tree.

"I have watched this tree grow from only a seed. It was something small and---"

He looked back at me.

"---insignificant, and it grew into this resplendent tree we behold today."

As I looked at him, I realized what he meant by his words, and flushed with delight. What is there to this tale? For a short moment I imagined a world completely different from the one I'd known thus far. A world in which I was treated with respect, fairness even kindness. A world in which I was not at the mercy of women with wicked hearts. _He_ was in this world.

His smile widened at my obvious pleasure, and he pulled the twig of blossoms from the branch and handed it to me.

"Smile for me, won't you?" he said.

I could not hold my smile back for another moment. He laughed gaily. I caught a glimpse of two elf maidens standing some ways off, eying Legolas with apparent desire.

I set the twig down and stuck my fingers into the cartilage of my ears, making them pointed.

"Now, I'm an elf also." I said in elvish.

He laughed again and knelt on the grass in front of me.

"So you are, my lady." he replied in elvish. "We must think of a name for you."

He seemed to ponder for a moment before clapping his hands lightly and saying,

"From this day onward you shall be known as Aearelen."

"Sea star?" I said in the common tongue. He nodded.

"But who shall call me by this name?" I asked.

"I shall." he said.

I looked down, blushing again.

The Elvenking suddenly called his name from across the courtyard.

He rose gracefully and bowed low to me.

"Farewell my lady Aearelen."

And he strode away on light feet.

"Farewell, Prince of Elves." I said quietly, clutching the twig of beech blossoms to my chest.

What more has to be said for this? I watched him walk away with sickness in my heart, though it was a pleasing kind of sickness. I mean to say, if one experiences an evening more exciting than any in one's life, they are saddened to see it end; and yet one still feels grateful that it happened.

Even after Legolas had disappeared from sight, I remained beneath the beech tree, only to make my encounter with him last longer in my mind. The wind wafted the smell of the woods my way, and it seemed startling and complex, only because of my heightened senses, I feel.

I told only the servant girl Neva of my meeting with the Elf prince, and proudly displayed the twig of blooms to her. I only regretted that the flowers would wither soon, and then be lost forever, leaving me with only a memory of their sweet scent.

The next day, Neva procured a small wooden box, in which the twig fit perfectly. I thanked her much for this gift that would preserve our moment together. I knew not where she found this box, but heard Divya complaining to her daughters that she suspected her servants of stealing from her.

* * *

Although I should have very much liked to speak with Legolas again during the remainder of our stay in Mirkwood, I seldom saw him except for the many feasts that the Elvenking held, and those were not appropriate moments for me to speak to him. I suspected that he was not even in the city for most of the time I stayed there, but this was speculation only.

When the time came for my family to begin the long journey home, I was terribly heartsick. I wanted to reamin there, but of course I had no say in the matter. I saw Legolas Thranduilion for the last time as I followed my mother into the carriage, and, though you may not believe me, he looked at me as well. I smiled at him, and though the lines of his mouth remained stern, I saw a smile playing around his eyes. This gave me great pleasure as we marched through the gates...it also gave me a terrible longing that remained with me for the rest of my days in Middle Earth, and even when I reached the shores of Imtros again.

I longed for the chance to return to Middle Earth, and some (ten years) later I received it.

The senate was now pushing my father to return and do trade with the peoples of Middle Earth. My brother Rama insisted upon making the journey with us. My father's third wife Esha resigned herself to stay, with her newborn daughter, Mirah. In my father's stead as king he had no choice but to leave Count Devadas, the head of the senate, and Divya's brother. He is a hard man, and quite as venemous as his sister, but he is clever and will not run my father's kingdom unjustly. Or so we under the sacred fire must hope.

We come to the present. I am once more in Rivendell, and much has changed in the (decade) I have been away. I am now (twenty-two), and a woman by the standards of our people. Many suitors have come asking for my hand, but since it is law that a princess will marry who she deems worthy, I have accepted no one for this or that reason. My parents seem frustrated by this, but they do not know of my ever burning passion for Legolas Thranduilion.

When Arwen saw me as she passed by my room with her servant, she abandoned all pretense of formaility and rushed to me saying,

"Do your eyes see as mine do, Védith? I hardly recognize her."

"I am glad to hear you say it, my lady." Védith replied. "I thought my eyes had been cheated by a spell."

There was no mystery in these remarks. I had grown very much like a tree in the subsequent (ten years). Arwen asked me to turn my head this way and that, repeating the words, "As lovely a mortal as mine eyes have yet seen." At one point, Védith even asked me to hold out my arms so as to measure my waist and hips with her hands. She did this very unabashedly, and this action would have put a frown on my mothers' face, for our women's clothes reveal the midriff.

This was not the only change since my last visit to Middle Earth. A malevolence sweeps across this land, though we do not know from whence it comes. Even the merry Hobbits in their sheltered lands are affected by it. Elrond greeted my father with little enthusiasm, and stated to him in private that this was a most inauspicious time for his coming. That was all my mother said of the matter, for of course I was not present for this meeting.

A hobbit resides here named Bilbo Baggins. He is elderly and feeble looking, and when he was introduced to us, my father did not bow to him, but gave him a very curt nod. Later that evening, during the feast held in our honor, he told us of his travels and adventures. Oh how he could make bloody battles sound thrilling instead of mortally perilous. At the feasts' end, my father bowed low to the little (but great) hobbit. There may be hope for my father yet.

One moon after our arrival, and three suns ago a wizard came to Rivendell. He rode in on the most magnificent steed I have yet seen. Mithrandir, they called him, The Grey Pilgrim. Despite his dramatic entrance, my first impression was that of merely an old man with a staff. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which a white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots. But I learned from Arwen that tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place wherever he went, in the most extraordinary fashion. And so when Elrond introduced our family to him, I looked at him with an almost fearful wonder. I thought perhaps that his coming had something to do with this Eastern Shadow that I'd been hearing about whilst I was dropping the eaves, as the peoples here say.

I must go now, tales of a new arrival are being shouted through the halls.


	3. Confluence

The seventeenth sun of the seventh moon ~ Rivendell.

Yesterday I watched two elves carry a young hobbit gently to a room on the upper floors of the house.

"Who is he, mother?" I asked, for we were standing together, looking down on the scene.

"I do not know Shri." she said to me, her brow furrowed.

It has been a long while since she has called me Shri, so I know that she is worried. She has not confided in me the basis of her concerns, but while I am unknowing and foreign to the events and affairs of these lands, I feel in my heart that everything will soon be illuminated.

The eighteenth sun of the seventh moon ~ Rivendell.

The arrival of the four hobbits and a man called Aragorn has caused a great commotion. My mother is steadfastedly trying to keep me occupied. It occurs to me that she may have guessed that I have been trying to gather information.

I will write again when something of note occurs.

* * *

The twentieth sun of the seventh moon ~ Rivendell.

Alas, it has been a strange sun.

This morn, I saw the wizard Gandalf making his way to the room in which the young hobbit who fainted was being kept. I looked in at him yesterday when the round hobbit named Sam had left for whatever reason. He had barely left his master's side since they carried him in three nights ago. The young hobbit looked very nearly dead when they first brought him, but yesterday he seemed to be well. I know for myself that Elrond is a skilled healer so this was not surprising.

I followed Gandalf, very much as I had followed Dipka and Dipiki all those years ago, to hear what I could about the events that now seem to be set in motion. My mother was busy with Rama, doing what I cannot say, but I am grateful that she was not present to prevent me from following the Wizard.

When I arrived outside the door, I could hear Gandalf speaking, and a voice replied that could only have belonged to the hobbit.

"I don't know," the hobbit was saying. "They don't feel at all; which is an improvement, but....I can move my arm again a little. Yes, it is coming back to life. It is not cold."

"Good!" said Gandalf. "It is mending fast. You will soon be sound again. Elrond has cured you: he has tended you for days, ever since you were brought in."

"Days?" said the hobbit.

"Well, four nights and three days, to be exact. The elves brought you from the ford on the night of the twentieth, and that is where you lost count. We have been terribly anxious, and Sam has hardly left your side, day or night, except to run messages. Elrond is a master of healing, but the weapons of our Enemy are deadly. To tell you the truth, I had very little hope; for I suspected that there was some fragment of the blade still in the closed wound. But it could not be found until last night, then Elrond removed a splinter. It was deeply buried and was working it's way inwards. Don't be alarmed!" he said suddenly. "It is gone now. It has been melted. And it seems that hobbits fade very reluctantly. I have known strong warriors of the Big people who would quickly have been overcome by that splinter, which you bore for seventeen days."

"What would they have done to me?" the hobbit asked. "What were the Riders trying to do?"

"They tried to pierce your heart with a Morgul knife which remains in the wound. if they had succeeded, you would have become like they are..."

As I listened, I learned a great deal more of what was transpiring in the lands of Middle Earth. I knew now that there was a Dark Lord in a land called Mordor and that he poses some kind of threat to the peoples here. I learned that this Dark Lord had Black Riders in his service called Wraiths by Gandalf, and that they were terrible to behold. I also heard of a Ring, and that the young hobbit was a ring bearer, and Bilbo was the ring finder. I gleaned that the two were related somehow. Though I was glad to learn more of the events that preceeded the young hobbits arrival, the information that I took in raised as many questions as it answered. I do not know how a ring ties into all of this, but I swear on pain of death I shall soon find out.

Later this evening a feast was held in the Hobbits' honour. The hall of Elrond's house was filled with people, Elves, Hobbits and some Dwarves as well. Rama was seated next to me and my mother and father were seated across from us. Divya was seated beside my mother and though they did not have their heads turned toward one another, they seemed to speaking to each other. No doubt they were passing snide remarks back and forth, for they were often locked in a battle of wits when they spoke. Dipka and Dipiki were seated at one of the side tables below the dais, with their oafish and loud mouthed husbands. My father said nothing to anyone, and barely touched his food. His expression was clouded and he seemed lost in thoughts that troubled him greatly. Rama and I exchanged a look, and we understood each other. But there was nothing to be done about it at the time. Also I was much excited because the hobbit Frodo sat on my right. He said nothing for a long while, but when he finally spoke to the dwarf on his right, I listened keenly.

I learned much about the dwarf kingdom, but very little of the business at hand.

At length, the feast came to an end, and Elrond and Arwen rose and led the company to a far hall, where the doors were thrown open, and we flowed in, like a river flowing into the sea. Here there were no tables, but a bright fire burned in a hearth between great stone pillars on either side. I was weary, but out of respect I kept my eyes and ears open. The Elven music was sweet and my mind drifted off to that late spring day when Legolas had given to me the twig of blossoms. I have revisited this scene in my daydreams and nightdreams many times over the last (decade). His fair face has not faded from my memory in the slightest. Though the time passed seems an age to me it must seem slight to him, in his immortal glory. It was this thought that comforted me, for if this is true then he might still remember me. I was lost in dreams yet still awake for the duration of this merry gathering. I heard the hobbit Bilbo ask this Aragorn why he was not at the feast. When Bilbo mentioned to him that the lady Arwen had been there, I wondered if perhaps the two are in a similar position to mine.

I am worried in my heart. For this ill news of evil from the south is perhaps dissuading my father from traveling to Mirkwood. My father's intentions in leaving will be for our protection only, but I will be heartsick with it. This may be my last chance to tell Legolas of my cherished, secret burning passion for him. But I wonder if we do continue to Mirkwood, would I have the courage to tell him all that I feel?

I write these words in my small room, by candle light. I brood and wonder on what's to come.

I have taken out the twig of beech blossoms. Like the kindness that brought it to me, It is withered and faded, but the scent lingers. The sweetness does too linger. O to the sacred fire, the Asim, and the spirits of the earth, water, and sky, I pray that he remembers me.

The twenty-first sun of the seventh moon ~ Rivendell.

O blessed be to the sacred fire and all who dwell under it!

I write with such a feverish hand, but I am determined to tell of this properly. This morn, I was rudely roused by Neva. The look on her face was so urgent that I worried something was terribly wrong at first, but then she smiled and pulled my hands ( for Neva is mute and could not tell me what was so important.) She continiued pulling on my hands until I rose from the bed and she hurried me into the hallway, still in my night robes. I was startled and very very curious as to what caused such excitement in Neva, that she would abandon her quiet ways of servitude and act like an overexcited teenager. She ran from window to window and balcony to balcony looking down at the lower parts of the house, searching for what, I did not know. Finally we came to a balcony looking down on the garden and she pointed at something on the ground. I asked her,

"What is it?"

She exasperatedly gave me a look that told me plainly, "Look for yourself."

I walked warily to the edge of the balcony and looked tentatively down. My heart seemed to jump into my throat. I heard my pulse beating out fast as a battle drum.

Behold! It was Legolas, in all his elven beauty and splendor! He was speaking with Elrond and his sons, clearly having arrived a short while ago. He has lost none of his charms and I was weak with surprise and delight. My knees rattled and my breath came out fast and soft. I stared at him so longingly and directly, thinking I had strayed into one of my own dreams. He felt my gaze and turned his his head towards me, his eyes locked with mine for a second so brief it didn't seem real. I turned and backed away from the balconies edge so quickly that Neva started and hurried after me.

It was all I could to do to keep myself from laughing with euphoria, as Neva and I raced back to my room. I knew of a council later this morning that I wished to witness and so, Neva dressed me particularly carefully, with no crown upon my black hair, I am wearing only a small ring of silver about my temples, forged to look like the waves of the sea. I hear a bell ringing for the meeting now, and I pause only to write all of this down. It seems that things are moving quicker than I expected.

Evening:

Well as was expected only my father and Rama were permitted to attend the meeting. Divya and her daughters showed no further interest and my mother said nothing, but removed herself quietly. This signifies how worried she is. I, however, snuck back to the porch, and hiding in the morning shadows I listened. I could not look, for if I did I knew that I would be too absorbed in watching Legolas to hear and comprehend anything.

In the beginning much was said about the world outside this place, pertaining particularly to the lands in the south and the east mountains, and I had heard these rumors before. They were now confirmed. At the telling of the dwarves's tale, the Ring was mentioned again and I learned that it was a magic ring that belonged to Sauron, the Dark Lord in Mordor. Elrond then told the tainted history of the Ring, and even though I heard but did not see, I grew to loathe it. I also learned a great deal about Middle Earth in this speech as well. The man from Gondor named Boromir then stood and said his piece, and so on and so forth. I do not remember it all word for word, but I now know what troubles lay ahead for these free peoples of Middle Earth, indeed the world over. When the time came that Gandalf was saying his piece of the tale, my father and Rama had still said nothing. They only listened. When I heard the voice of Legolas cry, "Alas, alas!" in response to the claim Aragorn made that the creature Gollum was captive by the Elves of Mirkwood, I stiffened. I listened to what he said with one ear, and focused all my energy on the sound, tone, and pitch of his voice with the other. All too soon, it seemed his piece was said. Gandalf continiued his tale of the treachery of another wizard called Saruman. After this, the subject came to what to do with the One Ring.

When one of the high Elves said, "two things reamain only for us to attempt: to send it over the Sea, or to destroy it." this was when my father spoke.

"Yallah!" he said angrily. (In Imtran this word means "preposterous.") "I will not risk war coming to our land for the sake of others to whom we have no ties. Furthermore, I will have no part in this quest. Yours is a violent and war ridden land, I will not risk open war and bring death to my people!"

I could hear my heart pounding in anger. From what I had heard, this matter was not just a concern for Middle Earth but for all the world. For if this war was lost and the Enemy had his ultimate weapon returned to him, he would surely seek us next. Rumors of our power source had spread to this land, and I am sure the Enemy knows of it. If one thing is true of Powerlords, they are always seeking their next source of power, even after all the victory they could hope for. I could not contain myself.

"But father!" I burst out from behind the pillar and ran to face my father. His dark face was surprised and angry.

"This matter concerns us as well! We should not abandon it! If you--"

"Silence!" He shouted, raising his hand to me for the first time in my life. Rama made a sudden, instictive movement to protect me but settled quickly.

"You do not know of what you speak, girl! It is an honor to protect my country and my people."

"But--"

"I know my place in this world! It is time you learned yours! Go now, I will deal with your insolence later!"

Not daring to look at Legolas, I fled before my father's angry face, blinded by tears.

"They who dwell beyond the Sea will not recieve it, Glorfindel." Elrond said quietly as I ran.

I spent the afternoon crying on my bed until my eyes ran dry. Neva brought me some bread and cheese in the evening, and soon after, Rama and my mother came in.

"Your father no longer wishes to look upon you for the time being." My mother said gravely. "I will try to reason with him, but he is very angry with you." she added, seeing the tears sliding down my face afresh.

My brother looked at me pityingly, and my mother said no more as she walked out of my room. Rama picked up a handkerchief and wiped my tears away, sitting next to me.

"Cry not, little sister. You are brave, " he said. "for you did what I could not."

I looked at him for a moment then threw myself into his arms crying even harder.

Rama told me that the council had decided to take the Ring into Mordor and destroy it in the only place it could be destroyed, a mountain of fire. When I asked who would take the Ring, he squirmed as if the answer was too absurd.

"The hobbit." he said finally. "Frodo."

"You jest, big brother." I said, laughing.

"I speak the truth." he replied, his face serious.

I believed him then.

Rama then told me that the wizard Gandalf had brief words with my father after the council had ended, but they did not sway him. My father is planning to depart from Middle Earth as soon as word reaches us of calm seas.

Needless to say, as glad I was this morn, I am now just as sorrowful. I will sleep now, for my heart is heavy.

The first sun of the eighth moon ~ Rivendell.

Time passes ever slow behind a veil. There has been little to write about. I see Rama and my mother regularly, and Rama has promised to report anything to me of note. He claims that nothing further has occured than the scouts that were sent to find out what became of the nine Black Riders. My father is easy enough to avoid, for after the council he spends most of his time shut up in his rooms with Divya. When I do see him, he immeadiately turns his back. This is the highest form of disrespect in our culture. The days are long and the nights are bitterly short, though winter fast approaches. I spend my time here reading the Elven books and honing my skills with a wooden sword, though the purpose of this is hidden to me, I feel it is something I should do. I am growing weary. Though I spend much time in the gardens and woods I have not seen or heard of Legolas. I dare not ask of him, lest I am cast back into the flames of fury. It occurs to me that though I am royalty, and though I may roam these gardens and halls as I wish, I am in a cage. The bars of this cage are ceremony, the lock; tradition.

The fourth sun of the eighth moon ~ Rivendell.

The queerest things have happened today. I awoke from a most peculiar dream of a bearded man standing beside a window of plain clear glass. His beard was so heavy that the features of his face were obscured. He was saying something I don't remember and then suddenly, he put his fist through the window with a loud crash. I awoke, thinking I'd heard something in the room, but naught stirred. Everything looked the same as it always did; but my feelings were strange and different. I felt in my heart that the world had somehow changed since the night before. As I rose from the bed, I felt a twinge on the side of my head and reached up and touched the dolphin clasp I'd fallen asleep with in my hair. I pulled it out and was looking at it in my hand when quite suddenly it broke into three pieces. I couldn't have possibly explained what this meant, but I continued thinking about it as I took up my wooden sword and began the motions of the Chanda. I did this until I had a kind of buzzing in my mind, that comes from a thought circling and circling with nowhere to go; just like a bee in a jar. I fled from the stuffed feeling of the room and went outside to see the last of the leaves fall.

I was sitting on a stone bench in the garden, watching the leaves fall, when the wizard himself came and sat beside me.

He said nothing for a long while but seemed content to watch the brilliantly scarlet leaves flutter to the ground.

At last he said to me,

"Moral cowardice that keeps us from speaking our minds is as dangerous to the world as irresponsible talk. The right way is not always the easiest way, and standing for right when it is unpopular is a true test of moral character."

"What?" I said, startled.

He laughed and rose to leave.

"My dear Lady, the important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."

On that enigmatic note, he left in a whirl of his cloak.

I reamined in the garden to ponder his words, for a storm of thoughts raced in my mind. After an hour or so, Arwen came to the garden. I had hardly seen any of Arwen at all since the arrival of the Hobbits and Aragorn.

"Arwen!" I said in surprise. She smiled somewhat ruefully and came to sit beside me.

"How have you been fairing?" she asked.

"My father is paying no more attention to me than he would a leaf that has fluttered into the courtyard, I am in a foreign land that is on the edge of war, and he whom I love certainly does not return the emotion, and worse! He knows not of my passion."

She gasped, and I reeled, covering my lips with my hand. I had grown used to speaking to mostly Neva during the past few weeks.

She said nothing for a moment. The leaves wafted down quietly. I had the desire to run from the garden, but something kept me rooted there. She turned and looked into my eyes.

"May I ask...who is he that you love?"

"If you will swear not to speak of his name to anyone, I shall tell you. And you might answer me a question of my own."

The words came to my lips as readily as if I'd written them down beforehand. Ordinarily I might have lowered my head and said nothing, but that day I had a desire to shout his name for all to hear.

She nodded solemnly.

I gave a great sigh, and bade her silently to come closer. When her fair head was near enough I breathed into her ear his name.

"Surely not!" she exclaimed. I hastily made shushing noises.

"I have told you the name." I whispered. "Now answer me this, what becomes of the elf that weds a mortal?"

I asked this with great urgency, for I needed to hear the words from the lips of an elf before I believed what I had read. But Arwen looked greatly distressed at my question, and I immeadiately regretted asking it.

"I am sorry, you need not answer." I said after a painful silence.

We then sat quietly for a great while, each with her own thoughts and feelings to consider. The afternoon shadows had come when we finally parted company. I worried that she would feel ill at ease with me after this, but she gave me the warmest farewell that she had yet given. I think in the short time we spent together today, we understood one another perfectly.

I have yet to understand what Gandalf meant by his last comment, but the feeling I have now is certain that my path will soon be clear to me. For I remember now what the old man had said to me in my dream.

He said, "Listen for the words that will be said to you, and feel the words left unsaid. For when you hearken, they will lead you to your future."

The seventh sun of the eighth moon ~ Rivendell.

I have been practicing my Chanda with an almost insane vigor. While sparring with Rama today, I won every match and very nearly decapitated him at one point. As I was using cresent blades and he his sword, this is most difficult to do.

"Little sister!" he'd cried. "How is it that I have been studying the Chanda for (fifteen years) and am defeated by you, who has studied only (eleven)? I have not yet taught you some of what you've shown me today!"

"A teacher can open the door, but you must enter by yourself, Big brother." I replied wisely.

I know not why I wish to practice with such strenuous spirit, I feel that I am leading up to something incredibly important, something in which my skills with the blade and the spear will be tested. I do not know what it is and this frustates me.

Jian Min, the man who created the Chanda nearly (four thousand years ago) said once that "The greatest power is often simple patience." So I will wait and see what transpires.

Later...

Neva passed to me a note this afteroon, stating that the messengers had returned and that the hobbits had all been called to Elrond for a meeting. Still in my energetic state from my sparring, I recklessly went to the door of the room and listened.

"I will send out messages, such as I can contrive, to those whom I know in the wide world; but so perilous are the lands now become that some may well miscarry, or come no quicker than yourself."

Elrond was saying.

"And I will choose your companions to go with you, as far as they will or fortune allows. The number must be few, since your hope is in speed and secrecy. Had I a host of Elves in armour of the the Elder Days, it would avail little save to arouse the power of Mordor. The company shall be Nine; and the Nine walkers shall be set against the Nine Riders that are evil. With you and your faithful servant, Gandalf will go; for this shall be his great task, maybe the end of his labors. For the rest they shall represent the other Free Peoples of the world: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Legolas shall be for the Elves; Gimli son of Gloin for the Dwarves. They are willing to go at least to the passes of the Mountians, and maybe beyond. For men you shall have Aragorn son of Arathorn, for the ring of Isildur concerns him closely. "

"Strider!" cried the voice of Frodo.

"Yes," said Aragorn. "I ask leave once again to be your companion, Frodo."

I listened not to the next part of the conversation for my mind spun like wheels. Legolas is going on the quest, and he might perish! If that were to happen, I would never see my love come to fruition! Aside from this terrible thought, Elrond had said, "The Free Peoples of the _World_" not Middle Earth. Rama would have been the perfect representative for our people, but my father would never risk losing his only son and heir. But a daughter, one of four?

I listened again, and learned that in seven days, the company will depart. I shall follow them, for following led me to Legolas in the first instance and I feel sure that it will lead me to him again.

I am writing all of this now, with clarity and purpose. The meaning of my dream and the breaking of my dolphin clasp is now apparent. I will crash through the window of my old life, breaking all lines of tradition. A prince or princess who departs from the King without permission is considered exiled by our law. This seems a heavy price to pay...for most. But I know now that I cannot put a price on my destiny, and my happiness.


	4. Wherever he may roam

(Notes: I am planning to include notes after every third chapter, like I do with Memoirs of a Ravenclaw. Firstly let me say I do write this for you readers and I LOBE you all to death. It's just, I do get a little self conscious when I am writing O/C stories, because basically, they are better versions of me. Some people like to scoff..."I Love you, author...I mean...completely original character." stuff like that. Oh well I'm glad at least one person liked it. By the way, Divya, Dipka and Dipiki were not based on Cinderella's evil step family, but rather the nasty geisha Hatsumomo from Memoirs of a Geisha. (Yeah, that bitch.) The honest truth is that there is a lot in this story that I draw from, personal experience included. Anyway, to address your other concern, I got so frustrated when I was writing the third chapter, that I actually went out and bought the damn book so I could make the story flow together nicely, and make it seem more like she was actually there. Hence the chapter title: confluence. (Which means a coming together of people or things; concourse.) It serves a dual purpose, as this is also the chapter in which she feels Legolas has been sent to her. I think everyone knows that J.R.R.T is the man and that I own absolutely no words that are extracted from the pages of the good book. On a final note, I just like to use curse words. I have a truck drivers mouth. Sorry if that offended you. Anyway, thank you kindly, on with chapter four.)

* * *

Three suns before the company departs, the eighth moon ~ Rivendell.

I wonder, as I look into the faces of my family if they sense that I will soon be gone from them. I have told no one of my plan, not even Neva. It is important to maintain secrecy until all hope of stopping me is lost.

I will miss my mother, and Rama. I have spent the last four suns in my room, meditating, planning, and praying. I am planning on taking the following things with me, a map of Middle Earth, this ledger so as to further record my journeys, my two crescent blades, the boxed twig of blossoms, Rama's horse, and my father's sword. Yes, I am planning on stealing these last two things. Rama's horse, Khan is the only horse that knows me well enough to allow me to take him. He is a strong horse, descendant of the wild horses that were brought to Imtros long ago from the lands that lay even farther west and beyond. My father's sword, christened Shiva, has a hilt of milky quartz, and set in the swords pommel is a large Asim stone. The blade is paper thin, not heavy and cumbersome like the swords men carry here. Though the crescent blades have Asim shards buried in their hilts, they are not as large as this stone and so less effective. The Asim stone in my father's sword allows the wielder to cut through steel, wood, and flesh as though it were butter. The swords' lightness and simplicity allow the wielder to move and float as the teachings of the Chanda enable. I must have this sword on my journey. I am not going to be writing again over the next three suns, for these writings would threaten my goal if they were to be discovered. I will hide this away for the time being.

The Third sun into the Quest ~ Bleak Wilderness.

Woe, for I am so weary. It has been a trying week so far. I have not slept for it is cold and barren, and sleep is impossible in these rock ridden hills. The company has stopped their march for the time being and I am now taking a moment to write about the events that preceded my current misery.

On the eve of their journey I was restless, and my mother looked at me strangely. I stood with the other Elves and Rama, watching them depart. Once again, Legolas looked at me in a queer sort of way. It was a calculating stare, very much the same he'd given to my mother upon first seeing her. My eyes welled with tears as he disappeared into the gathering darkness. I tried very hard to scope out their general direction, but there is a reason they left at dusk I suppose.

Later that night, when all was silent, I slid myself into the same blue dress that I wear when I am sparring. It consists of a light undershirt, and pants. Over this is worn a long robe with overlong sleeves that nearly touch the ground. The robe is slit on the sides so it makes for easy riding. This robe is then closed tightly and secured with a wide sash tied high at the waist, overlapping again and again. The fabric is of lightest silk, and the sleeves are overlong so that the air will catch the fighter, making him or her seem to float. Over this I wear a hooded cloak of heavier silk for warmth. Finally, tight boots are worn over the pants, also made lightly, with soft soles as to keep from making noise.

After I had dressed, I stole as silently as a ghost to my father's room. He snored loudly and Divya was in his bed tonight. Wasting no time, I took the sword from his belt and slid it into my sash. I then went to my mother's room.

She slept fitfully, frequently tossing and turning as I watched her. I delicately laid the pieces of the Dolphin clasp on the table beside her bed. I then kissed her forehead and left as quickly as I had come.

Down through the house I practically ran, so fearful that I'd be caught at any moment. If what I know about Elves is true then they most certainly heard me, though none tried to stop me. For this I am eternally grateful.

I found Khan tied at the gate, he whinnied happily, hoping that I had food for him. I gave him a carrot hurriedly and packed my food, water, map, and this journal to his saddle bags. As they were on foot it would not be difficult to find them, however I had no idea how I could hide myself from their eyes until it was too late for them to send me back. I knew that they were traveling by night and so I would have to find them during the daylight hours. I hoisted myself onto Khan's back and he snorted as if asking, "So where to?"

"South, Khan." I whispered in his ear. He took off like a streak of black light into the night, and I could not see hardly anything around me. Khan has an amazing sense of direction, so I did not worry. (More than I already was, at least.) I could see no more of Rivendell, and the faces of my family already seemed hazy to me, as if my life up until that moment had been a very long dream, from which I was now awakening!

For one sun and two nights I saw no sign of the company, then, on the third sun I could just make out their fireless camp, far below me, on a rolling moor. I write now from the hills of the mountains where I can watch their progress. I will write again soon, but I must gather my strength now.

The fourteenth sun of the first moon of the Quest ~ in a place called Hollin by the map.

I see they have lit a fire below. It is a wonder to me that they haven't noticed me yet. In fact with Legolas as their rearguard, I'm certain they know that _someone_ is following them. The weather seems to have taken a turn for the better, the wind is not quite so harsh now, though I still shiver constantly. I hadn't known what cold was before coming to Middle Earth, for Imtros is always warm. Nothing evil has yet befallen any of us, for which I am grateful, but I feel in my heart that this will soon change. Khan is tired and grumpy but he bears me all the same. Two suns ago I received a message from Rama by way of his hawk, Osira. It reads:

_Father begs you to return with his sword, but I am proud of you, Little Sister. May you fare well and be successful in what it is that you hope to achieve. Mother is worried, but I told her that you were more clever than she, and have more strength than I. Once more, fare well Little Warrior, and may the sacred fire bless your every step. _

I cried long and hard at this short letter. How I wish now that Rama could have come with me, and released himself from our father's bonds.

The quiet unsettles me. The sound of my pen scratching on this papyrus sounds like a great waterfall to me. I see something coming ever closer, like a black cloud.

(Here Shreya's wording becomes somewhat fragmentary as she is too absorbed in watching the crebain come closer.)

my dangerous position....going to gather Khan.... climb lower into the trees.

* * *

The nineteenth sun of the first moon of the quest ~ On the low slopes of the Angry mountain

It seems that this road grows ever more challenging. After the gathering of the black birds, the company seemed to view this as an ill omen and directly changed course. They followed a wider path for a while, which made it easier for me to track them. Then they began to climb up the hills towards me, so I was faced with a decision: To head higher up onto the mountain, into the black clouds that were swiftly gathering? Or to move sideways and wait for the company to pass, so I could continue pursuit? The black clouds gave me my answer. I quickly hurried Khan to the side, back the way we had come.

I watched them pass as the first of the snowflakes began to fall.

Now they are high on the slopes, up in the clouds, and I can see them not. I worry that the storm may be too much for them.

As night falls I am imagining that I can hear a cruel voice on the wind. It is chilling and fills me with a great fear for the company. The clear Asim stone on the hilt of Shiva has turned black with my fear. I am terribly cold and faint of heart. I find myself wondering if I was wrong in thinking that I could make such a journey. For though the distance looks small on the map I now see the vastness of this land. My hands are cold and brittle as I write this, my belly is roaring with hunger, and my heart, so full of woe is fit to burst. The Asim stone is now a dull dark blue, the color of my sorrow.

I see a small light in the clouds. I think they have halted and lit a fire.

The twentieth sun of the first moon of the quest ~ On the low slopes of the Angry mountain.

Dawn has come, and the clouds have disappeared, though I fear they might return if the comapny moves forward again. The fell voice on the air is a testament to that. Every rock and tree and creature has a life, and a consciousness of it's own here.

I see two shadows of men forcing their way through drifts of snow high above, it seems that they are coming back this way. I will now move to the other side of the path that they walked for that has more ample hiding places.

Later...

I was sitting among the rocks in the pale morning light, thinking about a little frog I had once found that I named Big Wind, when I felt the small hairs on the back of my neck raise up. I instinctively looked around and saw a tall figure standing on the ledge high above me. The sun was so bright, that he seemed silhouetted, encased with light. I held my hand up to my eyes and tried to focus on him, but it was impossible. Even though I could not see his face, I had the distinct feeling that he was looking at me. We stared at each other for hours it seemed, or possibly only a few seconds. Then, quick as white lightning he ran over the snow drifts, rounded a turn, and was gone.

I cannot explain the lightness of my heart. For last night I was feeling the beginning of despair, but when I saw that stranger upon the ledge, a heavy weight seemed to lift from my soul, and I am smiling and singing softly to myself as I wait for the company to come down.

Still later...

The company has taken refuge underhill for the night, and I am still pondering the identity of the stranger upon the ledge...I am trying to recall how he looked to me in my mind. I see the image of his silhouette. There was a ring of light about his golden head...his golden head...Legolas!

The most amazing thing has happened. As my heart filled with the emotion of longing, the Asim stone has burned white, and a ringing sound rent the air. Then I heard the voice of Legolas saying, "I do not wish to go to Moria." Tales of the Asim stones receptiveness to our people's emotions are common, but for a small Asim stone to reach outside of itself and me and bring back a voice is something of legend. Such a thing has not happened since the Brahma unearthed the Great Asim Crystal from the bowels of the sea. The stone in Shiva and the shards in my crescent blades are from this Great Crystal.

I have searched for the place called Moria on the map, and found that we are not far from it. Perhaps this is the direction they are going to take. I wonder why Legolas does not wish to go there. The name Moria is familiar to me somehow, and I seem to have forgotten something important. I cannot recall for the night is bitterly cold and the wind is howling fiercely.

The company has moved to the top of the hill and has now lit a fire. I see shadows moving towards them. What evil now has come? I must warn them. Now seems the time to reveal myself.

Even later still...

It happened quick as lightning. As I saddled up Khan, I saw a great beast attempt to jump into their midst, it was felled by something, and the other beasts moved away. With a sigh I have sat down again.

The twenty first sun of the first moon of the Quest ~ The low slopes of the Angry mountain.

I was awoken by a loud cry in the night, an incantation that shook the rocks under my feet.

_"Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!"_

There came a great roar and a crackle, and one of the trees on the hill burst into flames. The fire leapt from tree top to tree top and I saw more beasts scatter before it. They had attacked again, and though they were now near enough to attack me, they did not. In fact I saw no trace of them afterward. They seemed to be on a specific errand to attack the company and I was glad I had not joined them earlier. It is now morning and the company is making ready to depart.

They are heading southeast with great speed, in the direction of Moria by the map. It seems that we will pass under Moria after all.


	5. To join a fellowship

The Shreya Jaidev manuscript now takes a different turn. We can distinguish when she writes about things she recalls, and when she writes about things as they are happening. Now that she has finished telling her tale of her first journey in Middle Earth, this switching of tenses becomes confusing to the reader. In addition, after she had entered Moria, she had little time or energy for writing long descriptions and did not write a full report of her experiences in Moria until the Company reached the Lorien. She also lost track of the "suns" and "moons". This was how her journal was to remain for the rest of the Quest. In it's original state it is fragmented and most difficult to follow. So, with the help of my friend Naiad, I have compiled the rest of her entries so that they read more like a memoir and less like an an actual journal. Of her headings, I have decided only to keep her location.

* * *

~Moria~

I followed the company on the back of Khan for six leagues or so, when the path became so narrow and rocky that it was becoming difficult for Khan to travel through without making a terrible racket. I knew that I would have to be joining the company soon if I was to make it through Moria alive, so I fed him the last carrot and bade him return to Rivendell, and to Rama. He nuzzled my forehead gently before turning and streaking back into the distance. Without Khan, I had to race on light feet to catch up to the company, but of course without him, I could get much closer to them than I had before and it was easier to hide from them. In this narrow gorge, my strength would lie in stealth as opposed to speed.

As late as noon I noticed that the company had slowed down somewhat and were wandering among the jagged rocks. I hoped and prayed that they were not lost for I had a strange feeling that the beasts had not finished with us. Suddenly the dwarf called Gimli seemed to have found the path again, and hurrying along behind them I saw a deep and narrow channel. It was empty and silent, and hardly a trickle of water flowed among the brown and red stained stones of it's bed; but on the near side, there was a path, much broken and decayed, that wound its way among the ruined walls and paving stones of an ancient road.

"Ah! here it is at last!" I could hear Gandalf's voice crying. "This is where the stream ran: Sirranon, the Gate stream, they used to call it. But what has happened to the water I cannot guess; it used to be swift and noisy. Come! We must hurry on. We are late."

When it came to this, my feet were tired, but I trudged along, following the company for many miles. The sun had begun to go west, and my feet were grateful that they stopped briefly to have a meal, but my stomach moaned ever louder. At length we all came to a sharp bend, and rounding the corner one could see a low cliff, some five fathoms high, with a broken and jagged top. Over it, a trickling water dripped through a wide cleft that seemed to have been carved out by a fall which had once been strong and full.

Gandalf said something else, and led the company to the side of the cliff, where they began climbing what appeared to be stairs. I waited till the company was over the cliff, before climbing up the stairs myself.

When I reached the top, I saw the reason for the drying of the stream. Behind us, the sinking sun was slipping into the western sky with glimmering gold, and before us was a still and dark lake. Because of my connections with the Sea and water I knew immediately that there was something terribly depraved about this lake. No wind whispered across its surface; as smooth as glass it was. It's color was pitch black. Oh yes, there was definitely something nasty about the water. Beyond this malignant water, there were reared vast cliffs, their stern faces pallid in the waning light, and with an impassible finality they stood. The company traveled over a rim of open ground, that circled part of the lake. I followed warily. When I came to the northernmost corner of the lake, a small creek barred my way but that was not what caused me to reel away as I did. It was the stench of the green water.

It was, alas, a stench I knew. It was the sharp and pungent odor that is given off by the waste of a Kracken. There is a Kracken kept underneath the Isle of Imtros in a black cave. Evil men are sent there to die. I have smelt the scent of the Kracken only once before I saw it devour the body of a murderer. How a Kracken came to be here I could never guess, but nonetheless, I leapt over the creek, not wishing to disturb the water in any way. The Kracken may have been sleeping in the depths of the lake now, but it was imperative not to upset the water, lest we incur the terrible wrath of the beast.

The company now pressed on with a great pace, and I could see why. Even if they didn't know what horror lie beneath the lakes smooth surface, they would surely feel the malevolence and wish to put as much distance between themselves and this water as possible. They finally halted between two great holly trees. I crept as close as I dared, and at long last I could see each one of their faces, and hear with clarity their voices. I was glad to see and hear others again for it had been a lonely road thus far. I could see Legolas in the shadows and my heart once again leapt to see him. I could feel the box of beech blossoms against my chest under my robe, and I reached up to touch it gently.

"Those were happier days, when there was still close friendship between folk of different race, even between elves and dwarves." Gandalf was saying.

"It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned." Gimli said in a gruff voice.

"I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves." said Legolas defensively.

"I have heard both, and I will not give judgment now. But I beg you two, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends and to help me. I need you both. The doors are shut and hidden and the sooner we find them, the better. Night is at hand!"

And he bade the others to ready themselves for the mines and release their little pony.

A few more minutes passed as they looked for the door, and discarded their heavy winter things. At long last Gandalf said loudly enough for me to hear,

"Look! Can you see anything now?"

The moon shone upon the grey face of the rock, but I still could not see anything. Then on the surface, before my very eyes, faint lines appeared, like narrow veins of silver running through the stone. These eventually became wider and brighter and I could see the beautiful outline of a high arch, glowing in the moonlight. It was a beautiful gate indeed, and I began to think that Moria might not be such a terrible place. But then...I looked out at the dark water. Such a terror would not reside so close to a place that was wholesome.

As I came back to reality, I heard that there was some dispute. A password it seems must be spoken, before the doors of Moria would open. It appeared that nobody knew the password. I waited in the shadows for this hurdle to be jumped. Eventually I heard Gandalf shouting random words at the gleaming arch, and finally he threw his staff down in frustration. I sighed.

At that moment, there came the fearful sound of the howling beasts. Their pony started and the hobbit named Sam ran to his side, whispering gentle words.

"Do not let him run away!" Cried the man Boromir hysterically. "It seems we may need him still; if the wolves do not find us. How I hate this foul pool!"

And I watched in horror as he picked up a large stone and cast it into the water. It crashed in with a loud slap, and suddenly there was a swish and a gurgle. I prayed that the stone had gone unnoticed by the Kracken, but on the far edges of the lake, I saw long ripples beginning to form, fanning out towards the wall. The terror that gripped my heart was such that the Asim stone turned black again, and I felt the sword growing hot against my back. I was caught in a mesmerizing soundless panic, and I did not notice that the password had been remembered. I could only watch the long waves approach the shore, finally crashing quietly on the rocks. For a split second, I felt a stillness, a deep breath before a plunge.

Suddenly a long snaking tentacle shot out of the water like an arrow. It was forty feet long, ending in a lagre leaf like tip and glowed paley in the moonlight. The palm of the tentacle wrapped itself around the ankle of Frodo and Bill the pony took off in fright. The waters of the lake were crashing as more tentacles made their way through the water. At Frodo's cry, Sam leaped into action, falling to his knees and slashing at the tentacle with a knife.

My time had come. With a battle cry I drew my sword and jumped the distance to where Frodo lay gasping.

_"Haaaaaaaaai!" _

With one cleave I severed the tentacle, and there was a look of utter shock on Frodo and Sam's faces. The bleeding stump that was lately a tentacle dragged itself back into the water and twenty more tentacles burst through in it's wake, writhing and flailing about, searching. Sam was dragging Frodo towards the door calling for help.

"Into the gateway! Up the stairs, quick!" Said Gandalf.

There was utter chaos as we all fled before the Krackens deadly arms. I ran behind Frodo and Sam into the darkness as dense as a jungle. We had only gotten up the first few steps when the arms crossed the threshold into the mine. With a great rumbling crashing noise, the arms pulled the walls of the door and caused the entrance to cave in, no doubt trying to lift it's heavy weight out of the water. After the smashing sound had passed and only a few stray rocks tumbled down to the floor, I could hear only the sound of my own heavy breathing. I was relieved greatly. I had passed my first test and saved the Ring bearer!

Suddenly a pair of strong hands seized me around the collar and shook me roughly, making my sword fall to the ground with a clatter.

"Who are you?!" a man shouted into my face. I recognized the voice as that of Boromir. I said nothing, for I was stunned.

"Answer me!" He shook me again, lifting me off the ground and gripping my neck hard.

I gasped for air and faintly heard the sounds of feet running down the steps.

"Release her!" Gandalf said in a voice that resonated throughout the hall.

Boromir dropped me promptly and I struggled to my feet again. There was the sound of wood being pounded into the floor and a faint light issued from the tip of tip of Gandalf's staff, shining onto my face. He looked at me, not in an accusatory manner, but as if checking to see that I was not hurt. He rounded on Boromir.

"Shreya has been following us since we began our journey, and she has just saved Frodo. She means us no harm."

He said no more, and turned, heading back up the stairs. In the fading light, I saw Boromir looking at me suspiciously. I glared at him, massaging my throat. Picking up my father's sword, I walked up the stairs ahead of Boromir, listening to Gandalf speak of the Kracken to Frodo as though nothing unpleasant had just happened between Boromir and I.

"There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world." Gandalf was saying.

Boromir muttered, "In the deep places of the world! And thither are we going against my wish. Who will lead us now in this deadly dark?"

"I will," said Gandalf. "And Gimli shall walk with me. Follow my staff!"

We climbed two hundred steps before we reached the landing. Frodo said,

"Let us sit and rest and have something to eat. here on the landing since we can't find a dining room!"

I chuckled faintly. And the proposal was welcomed by all. As we ate I could feel the other members of the company looking at me curiously in the dim light.

"You are the young girl who spoke at the council of Elrond?" said Aragorn finally.

I had not had the chance to look at Aragorn properly since he came to Rivendell with the hobbits. He was lean, dark and tall, with shaggy dark hair, flecked with grey, and had a stern pale face. But the face was honest and noble as well.

"Yes, it was I."

He nodded solemnly.

"It was brave of you. Your father is an impressive man. And it was even more valiant to come on this Quest."

He smiled in an encouraging way, and then cast a meaningful look to Legolas. I felt a quiver of uneasiness around my middle. Had Arwen told him?

"Why did you not reveal yourself before now then?" said Boromir petulantly.

I stared insolently back at him (his rough treatment of me at the gate was not forgotten) and answered in my own toungue,

_"Mu he gweno hulic."_

He turned away.

"I care not."

After we had eaten, Gandalf gave us each a sip from a flask of something called miruvor, and instantly I felt regenerated. Along with this, I now had food in my stomach and people to walk with. I found I had the strength to carry on through this desperately dark place. Gandalf walked in front as before, now with his sword drawn. Everyone took a leaf out of his book and followed suit. Behind him went Gimli with his mighty axe, then Frodo with his short sword. After him, Legolas. Behind him, the two young hobbits Meriadoc and Peregrin. Then I, followed by Boromir. And Aragorn brought up the rear.

The passage twisted and turned, gradually beginning to descend. As the path leveled out, I began to grow weary. My arms and legs throbbed painfully, and the dark walls became less fascinating and more dreary and indistinct. The company spoke little and then only in hurried whispers. And so whenever Legolas spoke, I struck upon the idea to imagine that every nuance in his voice was some kind of comment on his feelings for me. My legs did not seem so tired afterward. At one point I think I convinced myself that I wasn't even in Moria, but kneeling on the grass beside Legolas. I imaginged the scent of trees and a light breeze blowing in my hair. I hadn't felt such bliss in as long as I could remember. Like a ball that is tossed in the air that seems to hang motionless before it falls, I found myself lost in a quiet timelessness. As I glanced around the mine, I saw only the beauty of its natural caverns. I thought this state might never end, but one of the hobbits in front of me broke the spell.

"That stone on your sword glows white!" Peregrin whispered to me.

My smile fell before I could stop it; just as if the strings holding it had been cut.

"It is an Asim stone, Master Took."

"What's that?"

"It is said that long ago, a shaman named Brahma brought the Great Asim Crystal out of the sea. The Great Crystal thrives on the collected emotions of our people. In return, it provides power, and in rare times longevity. Though Brahma has been the only one who could use it to extend his life long into the ages. After two thousand years, he gave up this power and succumbed to mortality, like going to sleep after a very long day."

I paused and noticed that every member of the company was listening intently. I hesitated, for my father would weep if he knew that I was divulging the secrets of our power. However I was surely exiled, so I continued.

"When the Great Asim Crystal was raised from the deep, it is said that the Crystal cracked, and many shards of it fell into the hands of Brahma and his descendants. This stone is one of those pieces. Just as the Great Asim Crystal, it feeds on my emotions, and glows with a different color when I am feeling something particularly strongly."

"What does the white color mean then?" Peregrin asked curiously.

"_That_ is a longer story."

"I could listen to a long story in this dreadful place."

"Alas, now is not the proper time to tell that story, for it is not yet complete."

I said no more after that, for even in the darkness I could feel blotchy heat crawling up my cheeks.

Though I tried to return to the dream place I had just visited, I could not, and my feet and legs protested this march ever painfully. The march seemed endless to me but when we finally halted again I realized that it had only been a few hours. We hadn't stopped to rest though.

"I have no memory of this place at all!" said Gandalf when we'd come to a parting of three separate corridors. He stood uncertainly under the arches, holding up his staff, trying to see any distinguishing writings or marks. None could be seen.

"I am too weary to decide." He said finally, shaking his head. "And I expect you are all weary as I am or wearier. We had better halt here for what is left of the night. You know what I mean! In here it is ever dark; but outside the late moon is riding westward and the middle-night has passed."

I was glad to hear this and wished to fall down and sleep where I stood.

"Poor old Bill!" said Sam woefully. "I wonder where he is. I hope those wolves haven't got him yet."

To the left of the arches, we found a stone door; it was half closed but it swung back easily to a gentle thrust. beyond there seemed to be a wide chamber cut in the rock.

"Steady, steady!" cried Gandalf as Meriadoc and Peregrin pushed forward, glad to find a place where they could rest with at least more a feeling of shelter than in the open passage.

"Steady, you do not know what is inside yet. I will go first."

He went in cautiously, while we filed behind.

"There!" he said, pointing with his staff to the middle of the floor. Before his feet we saw a large round hole like the mouth of a well.

"One of you might have fallen in and still be wondering when you were going to strike the bottom." Aragorn said to Meriadoc. "Let the guide go first while you have one."

"A little Ranger's wisdom?" I asked in an effort to lighten the mood. I could feel Aragorn's smile in the darkness.

"Indeed." he said.

"This seems to have been a guardroom, made for the watching of the three passages." said Gimli. "That hole was plainly a well for the guards' use, covered with a stone lid. But the lid is broken, and we must all take care in the dark."

Everyone else was unrolling blankets against the far corners of the room, but I had brought no blankets for myself. I drew my silk cloak closer to myself and curled into a ball, turning to face the dark stone. The well frightened me. I had always been afraid of wells and holes, ever since Dipka had told me something frightening about them that I don't even remember. Suddenly I heard a soft _plunk _came from the well that was magnified in the room. Two things happened very quickly. I started and looked wildly around in the darkness, terribly afraid for a moment. Then someone who had settled themselves very near to me laid a hand on my shoulder gently. I could not see who it was, and before I could so much as open my mouth to ask, the hand had been withdrawn.

"What's that?" cried Gandalf.

Peregrins' voice stuttered that he had dropped a stone into the well. Gandalf seemed relieved but angry.

"Fool of a Took! This is a serious journey, not a hobbits-walking party! Throw yourself in next time and then you will be no further nuisance. Now be quiet!"

Nothing more was heard for several minutes; but then there came out of the depths faint knocks. _Tom-tap, tom-tap. _They stopped, and when the echos had died away, they came again: _Tap-tom, tap-tom, tap tap, tom. _They sounded to me like signals of some sort and I began to have a burning sensation in my throat. The air in the room was so still, as if even the walls were holding their breath. But after a moment the knocking died away and was not heard again.

"That was the sound of a hammer, or I have never heard one." Gimli growled in the darkness.

"Yes." said Gandalf. "And I do not like it. It may have nothing to do with Peregrin's foolish stone, but probably something has been disturbed that would have been better left quiet. Pray, do nothing of the kind again! Let us hope we can get some rest without further trouble. You, Pippin can go on the first watch as a punishment."

Everyone settled again. It seemed that no matter where I went I could not shake the cold from my bones. I shivered under my light cloak for some time before I finally succumbed to exaustion.


	6. When Darkness Fell

Now, if Shreya had known who it was that put his hand on her shoulder as she panicked, or what happened while she slept, she might not have felt the way she did later on in her story. You'll see what I mean later. That aside, this is what happened after Shreya fell asleep.

An hour or so after Gandalf had taken kindness on Pippin and switched places with him, Shreya still shivered in her sleep. When her teeth began to chatter, there was a faint movement in the same corner, and the sounds of cloth being lifted lightly and placed down again could be heard. Her teeth no longer clacked and her shivering ceased. Gandalf turned and looked through the darkness into that corner.

"You should seek rest, Legolas." he said quietly.

"I will find no rest here." The elf replied. "Not in body nor mind."

"You cannot place blame upon yourself for the choices of others. In her heart, Shreya knew that her path would lead her here. You must consider whither you wish your path to take you, Legolas Thranduilion."

No more than that was said between the two, but in her sleep, a small smile came to play on Shreya's lips. I think you'll agree that Shreya would have found this little exchange very interesting indeed.

* * *

I awoke to the sensation of light fabric being pulled off of me as quick as a flash of lightning, and the voice of Gandalf rousing us all from sleep. In some foolish part of my mind I expected there to be enough light to see who had been next to me last night. Of course there was only the little bobble of light that was Gandalf's staff. I rose quickly while Gandalf told us how and why he had decided on which path to take. As misrable and fearful as I was when I fell asleep, I was just as refreshed when I woke up. The reason for this is unknown to me.

For eight lightless hours we marched on, with nothing meeting us, dangerous or no. The passage Gandalf had selected wound steadily upwards. As far as we could judge it went in great winding arcs, growing steadily loftier and wider the farther we traveled. There were now no openings or galleries or tunnels on either side, and the floor was level and sound without pits or cracks. Evidently we had struck a road that once must have been an important one. We went forward more swiftly than we had on our first march, or so it seemed to me. I decided it must have been the rest I received.

We had marched as long as the little hobbits could endure without a rest, and were trying to decide where we all could sleep when the walls to the left and right suddenly vanished. We seemed to have passed under some great archway into a black and empty space. There was a draught of warmer air behind us and this new darkness was cold on our faces. We halted and crowded anxiously together, but Gandalf seemed pleased.

"I chose the right way." he said. "At last we are coming to the habitable parts, and I guess that we are not far from the eastern side. But we are high up, a good deal higher than Dimrill Gate unless I am mistaken. From the feeling of the air, we must be in a wide hall. I will now risk a little real light."

He raised his staff and for an instant there was a flash like lightning. I saw a vast roof over my head held high with strong pillars of stone. Why, it must have taken a (hundred years) to carve just one! Before us stretched a huge empty hall with walls that shined black in the light. I saw three other entrances ahead of us, one directly before us, facing east. Then the light went out.

"That is all I shall venture for the present." said Gandalf. "There used to be great windows on the mountainside, and shafts leading leading out to the light in the upper reaches of the mines. I think we have reached them now, but it is night outside and we cannot tell until morning. If I am right, we may actually see the morning peeping in. But in the meanwhile we had better go no further. Let us rest if we can. Things have gone well so far, and the greater part of the dark road is over. But we are not through yet, and it is a long way down to the Gates that open on the world."

We spent that night in the cavernous hall, huddled close together in a corner. I ended up between Boromir and Aragorn, and wondered vaguely if we were grouped together because we were humans. The vastness of the hall and the chill air that came in through the eastern archway made me feel lonely and desolated as I tried to fall asleep. This was difficult, for Boromir snored. The hobbits and Gimli were talking about Moria. Then Gimli rose and began to chant a song that drowned out Boromir's snoring. Eventually I drifted off to dreams of something better.

When I woke up it was to light shining down an eastern shaft. At the time it seemed like the most beautiful thing I'd ever beheld---light, real sunlight! I stretched, smiling at all the others, even Boromir. They were discussing now leaving Moria, and this made my spirits soar even higher. I felt like I was already gone from this dark and dreadful place, lying on the grass among trees and underneath an open sky. These things seemed akin to paradise after nothing but dark towering stone and icy blackness all around.

After we had breakfasted, Gandalf decided to go on at once.

"We are tired, but we shall rest better when we are outside." he said. "I think that none of us will wish to spend another night in Moria."

"No indeed!" said Boromir. "Which way shall we take? Yonder eastward arch?"

"Maybe," said Gandalf. "But I do not know yet exactly where we are. I guess that we are above and to the North of the Great Gates; and it may not be easy to find the right road down to them. the eastern arch will probably be the way we must take; but before we make up our minds we ought to look about us. Let us go towards that light in the north door. If we could find a window it would help, but I fear that the light only comes down deep shafts."

Following his lead, we passed under the northern arch into a wide corridor. As we traveled farther along the light grew stronger, and we saw that it came through a doorway to our right. It was high and flat topped and it's door hung on it's hinges, half open. Beyond it was a large square chamber. It was lit dimly but to our eyes, so used to only deep darkness, it was dazzling. Blinking, we entered. Our feet tread softly on a deep layer of dust, and many things lay on the floor, but we could not yet make out their shapes. The light came from a long window set high on the eastern side. A beam of light fell on a table in the middle of the room. It was a single oblong block, upon which was laid a white slab stone. Gandalf hurried forward to read the strange writing engraved on the stone.

"These are Daeron's runes." he said. "Such as were used of old in Moria. Here is written in the tongues of Men and Dwarves: Balin son of Fundin - Lord of Moria."

"He is dead then." said Frodo. "I feared it was so."

Gimli let out a wail of despair, and cast his hood around his face.

We began to search in the dusty reamins of axes, spears, sheilds, helms and Orc swords for some sign of what had happened to Balin and his company, thought it seemed clear enough to me. After a few minutes Gandalf found a book that was slashed and stabbed, and had dark stains on it's pages that looked suspiciously like blood. It seemed difficult for him to read, as he reported only fragments back to us. When he read the last pages a silence fell upon us like night falling onto the sea. A dread and a horror filled our minds and the light falling in seemed to grow darker.

" '_We cannot get out'_.." muttered Gimli, looking around the room darkly. "It was well for us that the pool had sunk a little and the Watcher was sleeping down at the southern end."

"They seem to have made a last stand by both doors." Gandalf said, looking around. "But there were not many left by that time. So ended the attempt to retake Moria! It was valiant, but foolish. The time is not come yet. Now we must say farewell to Balin son of Fundin. Here he must lie in the halls of his fathers. We will take his book, the book of Mazarbul, and look at it more closely later. You had better keep it, Gimli, and take it back to Dain, if you get the chance. It will interest him, though it will grieve him deeply. Come let us go! The morning is passing."

"Which way shall we go?" asked Boromir.

"Back to the hall." said Gandalf. "But our visit to this room has not been in vain. I now know where we are. This must be, as Gimli says the Chamber of Mazarbul; and the hall must be the twenty first of the north end. Therefore we should leave by the eastern arch of the hall and bear right and south, and go downwards. The twenty first hall should be on the seventh level. That is six above the level of the gates. Come now, back to the hall!

He turned, but he had hardly taken a step when there came a great sound. Long and resonating it seemed to come out of the bowels of the earth itself. _Boom. _We all of us sprang towards the door in alarm. _Doom doom. _It came again, and the only thing that thumped louder and harder were our own hearts. I could feel my chest beginning to tighten with the racing of my pulse. My palm began to sweat as I gripped the hilt of Shiva tighter. Then there came an echoing blast: a horn being blown in the hall, and answering horns and many, many shrieks. There was a hurrying sound of many feet.

"They are coming!" cried Legolas.

"We cannot get out!" Gimli shouted above the thundering footfalls.

"Trapped!" cried Gandalf. "Why did I delay? Here we are, caught just as they were before. But I was not here then. We will see what---"

_Doom! Doom! _The thunder came again and the walls shook.

"Slam the doors and wegde them!" Aragorn said. "And keep your packs on as long as you can. We may get a chance to cut our way out yet!"

"No!" said Gandalf. "We must not get shut in! Keep the east door ajar! We will go that way if we get the chance."

Another harsh horn call. More shrieks and cries. They were in the corridor. There was a ring and a clatter as the company's swords were unsheathed. Shiva's stone was clouded black when I heard the first horn call, now it glowed a firey red as I saw Legolas' pull his bowstring back. Boromir set his shoulder against the western door.

"Wait a moment!" said Gandalf, hurrying forward. "Do not close it yet!"

He stood at his full height next to Boromir.

"Who comes hither to disturb the rest of Balin Lord of Moria?!" he cried in a loud voice.

The answer came in shrieks of hoarse laughter mingled with the commanding drums of battle. _Doom, boom, doom. _

In a quick movement, Gandalf thrust his staff out of door and a great flash of light illuminated the hall briefly. Gandalf looked out, but quickly drew his head back in as arrows whined and whistled down the corridor.

"There are Orcs, very many of them. And some are large and evil: black Uruks of Mordor. For the moment they are all hanging back, but there is something else there. A great cave troll I think, or more than one. There is no hope of escape that way. "

"No hope at all if they come at the other door as well." said Boromir.

"There is no sound outside here yet," said Aragorn who was standing by the eastern door. "The passage on this side plunges down a steep stair, it plainly does not lead back toward the Hall. But it is no good blindly flying down this way with the pursuit just behind. We cannot block the door, it's key is gone and the lock is broken. and it opens inwards. We must do something to delay the enemy first. We will make them fear the Chamber of Mazarbul!" he finished grimly, gripping his sword tighter.

Heavy feet thundered in the hallway. Boromir heaved himself against the door, pushing it closed. He took up the splintered weapons of the dwarves and wedged them in. We retreated to the other side of the chamber, but we had no chance to flee yet. There came a blow on the door that made it quiver, and then it began to crawl slowly open. A huge arm and shoulder, with a dark skin and slimy greenish scales was thrust through the widening gap. Then a great, flat, toeless foot was forced through below. Boromir leapt forward and tried to hack the arm, but his blade glanced aside and fell from his shaken hand. It was notched. Suddenly Frodo leapt forward, crying "The Shire!" and springing beside Boromir, he stooped and thrust his little sword into the foot. There was a sharp cry of pain and the foot jerked back, nearly wrenching the sword from Frodo's arm. Boromir slammed the door shut again.

"One for the Shire!" said Aragorn happily. "The hobbit's bite is deep. You have a good blade Frodo, son of Drogo!"

There came a great crash from the door, followed by more crashes; the sound of rams and hammers rent the air. It cracked and flew inwards, suddenly flung wide. Arrows came whistling in, but hit the northern wall and fell harmlessly to the floor. There was a horn blast and the rushing of many feet, and Orcs, one after another, leapt into the chamber.

Without a moments hesitation, I sprang forward lightly, Shiva glinting in the small shaft of sunlight. I will never forget the look on the face of the first Orc I have ever slain. He raised his crooked sword menacingly, looking as though he would enjoy killing me very much. With two swift blows I had cut his sword down to it's hilt. He looked at it in his great hand with much surprise, just before I decapitated him. With that first kill, I felt a great rush inside of me that I couldn't explain. I turned left and right hacking their swords and knives in two, as though they were wooden toy swords. The Orcs quickly learned to avoid me and turned on the other members of the company. But as quickly as it had begun, it was over. When thirteen had fallen, the rest fled in terror, leaving us unscathed for the most part.

"Now is the time!" said Gandalf. "Let us go, before the troll returns."

But before we had even made a move toward the doorway, a huge Orc cheiftain, clad in black mail from head to foot leapt into the chamber. His dark tangled locks hung around his blackened face like a great lions mane and his sharp teeth were bared, as he loomed threateningly, almost man high. He wielded a great spear. With a thrust of his shield he threw Boromir backwards and diving under Aragorn's blow, he thrust his spear straight at Frodo.

The spear hit his right side and he was pinned against the wall. I watched, as Sam cried out and struck at the spear shaft, breaking it in two. Even as the Great Orc drew his sword, Anduril came crashing down on his head. The Orc was felled and his fellows scattered as Boromir and Aragorn fell upon them with a wave of fresh fury.

"Now!" Gandalf boomed. "Now is the last chance! Run for it!"

Aragorn picked up Frodo where he lay and shoved Meriadoc and Peregrin into the doorway before him. I saw Legolas take a step in my direction, but it was Boromir who grabbed my arm and led me through the door and down into the darkness. Instead, Legolas had to drag Gimli away from Balin's tomb, where he was wailing his rage. Boromir then hauled the eastern door to; grinding upon it's hinges. It had great iron rings on either side, but it would not fasten.

"I am all right!" came a gasp in the darkness. "Put me down!"

It was Frodo! I heard Aragorn set him down.

"I thought you were dead!" he cried.

"Not yet!" said Gandalf. "But there is no time for wonder. Off you go, all of you, down the stairs. Wait a few minutes for me at the bottom, but if I do not come soon, go on! Go quickly and choose paths leading right and downwards."

"We cannot leave you to hold the door alone!" said Aragorn.

"Do as I say! Swords are no more use here. Go!"

Down the stairs we groped our way, in pitch blackness. I knew not who went before me and who went after. The only thing I could see was the light from Gandalf's staff far above. Even in the panic and the chaos of those moments that we were going down the stairs I wondered what Gandalf meant when he'd said that swords were of no more use. I came to no conclusions but that is hardly surprising. My hands still shook, for that was the first battle I had ever been in. The walls seemed to be trembling with the steady rolling beats of the drums. Suddenly at the top of the stairs there was a blinding white light. A dull rumble. A heavy thud. Silence.

Quite suddenly, Gandalf came flying down the steps and fell to the ground in the midst of the company. I jumped back in surprise, landing against a soft wall of flesh and clothing. I looked around and felt my heart flutter all the way up into my head. It was Legolas, looking down at me. Before I could register anything beyond heart stopping wonder, I was no longer touching him, and he was looking at Gandalf.

"Well, well! That's over." said Gandalf in a flustered voice. "I have done all I could. But I have met my match, and have nearly been destroyed. But don't stand here! Go on! You will have to do without light for a while: I am rather shaken. Go on! Go on! Where are you Gimli? Come ahead with me. Keep close behind, all of you!"

We stumbled after him, wondering what had happened at the door.


	7. The Golden Wood

Shreya apparently could not bring herself to write of what happend next in explicit detail, for the events disturbed her greatly. Luckily for us it is recorded well elsewhere, but as a mark of her respect for Gandalf she did not write of his encounter with the Balrog, believing him to be dead at the time. She couldn't bring herself to write even the briefest description, instead beginning the next segment at Dimrill Dale, after the company had finally left Moria.

* * *

The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost.

Such were my thoughts as I crouched on the stones of Dimrill Dale in the bright sunlight. Grief such as I had never experienced overcame me; overcame all of us. The eastern gate of Moria opened wide behind us, but I could not even look at that place. Tears flowed out of all of us like water from a pot that boils over. Even as we ran from the arrows that the Orcs sent out after us, I could feel a chasm as wide as the one that had swallowed Gandalf opening inside of me. I had not known Gandalf for many years as some of the others had, but in the little time that I had known him, he touched me. It was _his_ words that made me believe that I was strong enough to venture on this journey. As his last words to us echoed in my mind, I felt like a broken vase that would not stand. I was lost even within the rock walls around me. I felt the box of blossoms against my chest and I realized that I'd been on this journey for more than a moon, and yet I had never given up the hope that I would someday realize my love. I had been living only half of the journey thus far. The other half I had spent in my dreams of Legolas. That is why dreams can be such dangerous things; they smolder on like a fire does and sometimes consume us completely. The fall of Gandalf brought into sharp relief the nature of this quest. The simple truth that none who walk this earth are invulnerable.

And I felt selfish! So selfish to be on this quest for love when the others were here purely for the salvation of the world. Selfish to pine for someone who neither knew nor cared of my feelings for him, not when this quest was of such great importance to the world. Even if he did return my affections, he would have to renounce and forsake the eternal life bestowed upon his people. I could never ask it of him. In a fit of despair, I took the blossoms from my breast and flung them away from me. They did not catch the wind as I had hoped, but fluttered to the ground not three footsteps away. I decided to leave them there along with my hope of materializing my love for Legolas.

If anything at all, this made me feel worse.

The hours after we left Moria spilled one after another into a muddle. Feeling like a child lost on a lake in the fog, I remember only snippets of things, aside from a constant feeling of misery and fear. I spoke little, and I heard less, and I saw even less than that. The Asim stone of Shiva turned grey and cloudy with my apathy for things.

For all of that bitter long walk, I wondered what had become of my mother and father, and of Rama. I was sick with anxiety and to comfort myself I imagined that I was home again, walking the paths along the Sea cliffs in Imtros. I knew it so well that I could picture myself there as vividly as if I had returned home with my father. In my mind I was rushing toward our graceful alabaster stone Palace, holding Rama's hand---though I'd never really held his hand before---knowing that in another few moments we would be reunited with our mother and father. I never did manage to reach the Palace in these fantasies; perhaps I feared what I would find within, and in any case it was the trip along the path that comforted me. At some point along the way, I heard the voice of Legolas, as though from a great distance.

"There lie the woods of Lothlorien!" he said. "That is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees of that land. For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till spring comes and the new green opens do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden, and golden is the roof, and it's pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. So still our songs in Mirkwood say. My heart would be glad if I were beneath the eaves of that wood, and it were springtime!"

For each and every word that he spoke I felt myself coming out of the fog of my mind and back to reality. Before the tragedy in Moria, I would have longed for, and imagined that Legolas would someday speak of me with such fervor, and such excitement. I would have wistfully pictured his eyes lighting up in that way when he looked upon me. As it was, I only sank deeper into my feelings of sorrow and hurried on.

I returned to a state of despair, feeling curiously numb now. I was deaf, dumb and blind to what was transpiring outside of myself. It was only when Legolas spoke that I heard anything, and even then his voice was a distant echo to mine ears. I was so lost in my own head that when we halted on a small island in the middle of a noisy little stream, I continued walking until I felt myself step into the icy water. I leapt back with a loud gasp and the other members of the company laughed to see it.

"It seems our little princess is wearier than us all!" said Gimli as he and the two younger hobbits kindled a fire.

I came and sat among them, but with my back to the fire, to show my displeasure. Aragorn said nothing to me but dressed the little wounds of Frodo and Sam. While Aragorn was marveling over the shiny mail shirt that Frodo wore underneath his other clothes, Boromir moved closer to me and said quietly,

"Of course we are all saddened by the loss of Gandalf. But you must be strong, little princess, for you now walk in his place."

He then reached up to pat my arm, but I jerked it away from him, for I sensed in some dark corner of my mind that his intentions were less than honorable in comforting me. My mother had told me some time ago, when I began my menses, that men have needs, and that a man will try to have his way with a woman who is not vigilant. The fact that he seemed overly frustrated by my reaction and turned away afterward deepened my suspicions.

Immediately after this, I had the sensation of being watched and I swiveled my head around in the direction of the curious eyes. To my astonishment they belonged to Legolas and just as soon as my eyes met his, they fled. He had witnessed the exchange of Boromir and I, and for a shining moment I wondered if he often watched me. But as I continued to stare avidly at him, his gaze did not stray in my direction again. I turned around, facing the long afternoon shadows once more.

After we had all eaten, they put out the fire and hid all traces of it, and we marched on for three more hours toward the eastern dusk and distant plain and wood.

It was dark; deep night had fallen at last and still we went on. I had traded my absent mindedness for a fearful and wary demeanor, for after Moria, I felt the open air to be vulnerable and exposed. The night wind swept chillingly up from the valley to meet us and we heard upon it's back the endless rustle of leaves and before us a wide, grey shadow loomed.

"Lothlorien!" Legolas cried, and the sound was startlingly loud to my ears. "We have come to the eaves of the golden wood. Alas that it is winter!"

I might have found the trees that loomed gracefully above us beautiful once, as the path took us right underneath them, but in my spirits' ruined state I only found them strange and eerie. It was a feeling that was curiously reflected in Boromir.

"Is there no other way?" he said when Aragorn dictated that we would go in a short distance and make camp off the path.

"What other fairer way would you desire?" said Aragorn, looking surprised at his reluctance.

"A plain road, though it led through a hedge of swords," said Boromir. "By strange paths this company has been led, and so far to evil fortune. Against my will, we passed under the shades of Moria, to our loss. And now we must enter the golden wood, you say."

And he then proceeded to tell of how the people of Gondor spoke ill of Lothlorien. Aragorn refuted these claims in one statement, and Boromir was cowed. With that, we plunged into the wood.

We had gone little more than a mile into the forest when we came to another stream.

"Here is Nimrodel!" Legolas said with fresh excitement. "Of this stream the silvan elves made many songs long ago. And still we sing them in the North, remembering the rainbow on its falls, and the golden flowers that floated on its' foam. All is dark now and the bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. I will bathe my feet, for it is said that the water is healing to the weary."

I had never heard Legolas speak so much, and with such enthusiasm. As I thought about it more, I realized that I had not yet seen Legolas while he was in his element, at home among the trees. I watched him with wonder in spite of myself as he climbed down the bank and stepped into the water.

"Follow me!" he cried. "The water is not deep. Let us wade across! On the further bank we can rest, and the sound of the falling water may bring us sleep and forgetfulness of grief."

One by one, we all climbed down, following Legolas. The water was cold but it felt clean and I, being a creature of water felt it fill me from my feet to my head, as though I had drunk it. The Asim stone flashed a light of brightest blue for a moment and the company started. I said,

"Do not be frightened, the Asim stone comes from the Sea, and recognizes good, pure water."

When we had crossed, we sat and rested and ate a little food. Meanwhile, Legolas told us tales of Lothlorien that the Elves of Mirkwood still kept in their hearts. I listened to him speak with all the unfulfilled wishes and hopes of my heart voicing themselves in my mind anew, which threatened to drive me mad with ache and longing. At last he grew quiet for a moment and all I could hear was the soft, sweet sounds of the water. Even as I listened I imagined that I could hear a voice singing out all my heart's love, frustrations and sorrow.

"Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?" he asked quietly.

For the briefest moment, I thought he was speaking directly to me, but I pushed the thought out of my head with a firm hand.

"I will sing you a song of the maiden Nimrodel, who bore the same name as the stream beside which she lived long ago. It is a fair song in our woodland tongue; but this is how it runs in the Westron speech, as some in Rivendell now sing it."

In a soft voice, hardly to be heard among the rustling of the leaves, he began,

_"An Elven-maid there was of old,_

_A shining star by day:_

_Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,_

_Her shoes of silver-grey._

_A star was bound upon her brows,_

_A light was on her hair_

_As sun upon the golden boughs_

_In Lórien the fair._

_Her hair was long, her limbs were white,_

_And fair she was and free;_

_And in the wind she went as light_

_As leaf of linden-tree._

_Beside the falls of Nimrodel,_

_By water clear and cool,_

_Her voice as falling silver fell_

_Into the shining pool._

_Where now she wanders none can tell,_

_In sunlight or in shade;_

_For lost of yore was Nimrodel_

_And in the mountains strayed._

_The elven-ship in haven grey_

_Beneath the mountain-lee_

_Awaited her for many a day_

_Beside the roaring sea._

_A wind by night in Northern lands_

_Arose, and loud it cried,_

_And drove the ship from elven-strands_

_Across the streaming tide._

_When dawn came dim the land was lost,_

_The mountains sinking grey_

_Beyond the heaving waves that tossed_

_Their plumes of blinding spray._

_Amroth beheld the fading shore_

_Now low beyond the swell,_

_And cursed the faithless ship that bore_

_Him far from Nimrodel._

_Of old he was an Elven-king,_

_A lord of tree and glen,_

_When golden were the boughs in spring_

_In fair Lothlórien._

_From helm to sea they saw him leap,_

_As arrow from the string,_

_And dive into water deep,_

_As mew upon the wing._

_The wind was in his flowing hair,_

_The foam about him shone;_

_Afar they saw him strong and fair_

_Go riding like a swan._

_But from the West has come no word,_

_And on the Hither Shore_

_No tidings Elven-folk have heard_

_Of Amroth evermore."_

I fear at that point I gave a sigh so great, that I heard several members of the company shift to stare at me in the darkness. I quickly sat upon the hilt of Shiva, for I knew the stone had glowed white again. The voice of Legolas faltered, and the song ceased.

"I...I cannot sing anymore." he said. "That is but a part, for I have forgotten much. It is long and sad; for it tells of how sorrow came upon Lothlorien, Lorien of the blossom, when the dwarves awakened evil in the mountains."

"But the dwarves did not make the evil." said Gimli.

I could listen no longer and laid my head down on the leaves in the darkness, distressed. I closed my ears to the sound of his voice for I thought if I heard him speak once more of lovers, my heart would surely burst. Even as I tried to stop it, the words sprang unbidden into my mind,

_Aearelen beheld the fading shore_

_Now low beyond the crests,_

_And cursed the faithless ship that bore_

_Her far from Legolas._

As my heart ached again with fresh pain, I heard Aragorn say as if from across another realm,

"We have sat here beside the road already longer than was wise."

We turned from the path and went deeper into the wood until we came upon a cluster of trees, some of which overhung the stream. They were wide in girth and so I guessed that they must have been tall, though this was only a guess.

"I will climb up." Legolas said. I shut my ears again quickly for I could not bear to hear his fair voice speak.

He sprang up lightly from the ground and caught a branch that was low on the trunk of the tree. Before he could do more than hang there, however, a commanding voice said "_Daro!" _from among the high branches. Legolas dropped back to the earth in surprise and fear.

"Stand still!" he whispered to us. "Do not move or speak."

Soft laughter trickled down from the trees and I felt myself grow rigid with fear. The voice spoke again, and I could understand little of what it said, for it had been long since I'd been east of the mountains. Legolas replied in the same tongue.

"Who are they and what do they say?" Meriadoc asked quietly.

"They're elves," said Sam. "Can't you hear their voices?"

"Yes, they are elves." said Legolas. "And they say that you breathe so loud they could shoot you in the dark."

Sam put his hand over his mouth.

"But they say also that you need have no fear. They have been aware of us for a long while."

And he told us of how they had recognized him as one of their own as he talked across the Nimrodel. He also said that they bid him to come up with Frodo.

"The others ask you to wait a little, and keep watch at the foot of the tree, until they have decided what is to be done."

We waited for only a short while before Legolas came down the ladder again. He said that the Elves in the trees would allow us to pass, and that we would stay up in the trees for the night. He told us that the hobbits would be staying in that particular tree with an elf named Haldir and his brothers, but that The humans and Gimli had to stay in the next tree over. I cursed in my mind for the blatant rascism, but learned that Legolas would be joining us, so I said nothing. After we saw that the hobbits had reached the top of the tree safely, Legolas led us to the next tree which he scaled first to throw a silver rope ladder down to us. Aragorn gestured to me to indicate that I should go first, and I saw a curious, knowing gleam in his eyes in the darkness. I climbed up the ladder nearly as fast as Legolas had, and he seemed surprised at my swiftness at reaching the top. He held out his hand to me then, and I took it slowly trying to savor his touch. He pulled me onto a wide and flat surface that was shaped like a great silver leaf. As Aragorn made his way up, Legolas spoke quietly into the darkness,

"You climb the ladder as if you were an Elf yourself, my lady."

I was so shocked at his speaking to me that I did not reply for a moment. Then in a voice that shook I said,

"The techniques of the Chanda stand on one thing alone."

Aragorn had reached the top, and was looking at us curiously.

"That is?" he asked.

"The air." I said. "You cannot see it, but it fills your lungs. Those who understand this principle of the air can step on it; as they would a stone, and swim through it; as they would the Sea."

"Yours is a strange culture indeed." Boromir huffed as he came up the ladder with Gimli, who had fallen several times on the way up, and so Boromir had to support him.

"And your culture is as strange to me." I said, laying my head down.

I awoke some time later to the sounds of feet hurrying below and the harsh laughter that I had heard in Moria. I sat up quickly, very afraid, and I opened my mouth to call to someone, but a hand seemed to shoot out of the void and covered my mouth. Another hand held me steady. The touch was gentle but firm. I looked around in the darkness to see who held me so protectively. He smelled of woods and earth. He breathed into my ear one word, _"Yrch."_ This means "Orcs" in Elvish. When the sounds had died away, the hands released me slowly, almost reluctantly. Then whoever it was leapt down, throwing the ladder up behind him. My heart thundered to think who it was that smelled of the forest, but I could not allow the thought to form in my mind. I laid my head down again, staring into the faint white glimmer of the Asim stone.

We were roused early and went on again, heading south. We were now guided by the ones from the trees, Haldir and his brother Rumil. After we had crossed a river on tight ropes, Haldir then tried to put a blindfold on Gimli, who was of course deeply inscensed by this, and told them so in many rude words. An argument followed, and to be honest it was an effort not to laugh on my part, for it was all so absurd to me. Eventually they ended up blindfolding us all and leading us around like dogs. At that point, I did laugh. The first true laugh I had since embarking on this great journey. It eased the sorrow that I felt wrapped around my heart slightly.

For another sun and a half we went slowly through the wood, unable to guide ourselves with our eyes. Then Haldir recieved word from those he called the Lord and Lady of the Galadrhim, and that we should now walk free. I was much pleased by this for the inside of a blindfold grows dull after so many hours. When the blindfold was removed from my eyes I gasped. We were standing in open space and there was tall, green grass all around. Upon a mound to our left, stood two tall circles of trees. leafless but beautiful in their naked glory. On the inside I could see more trees of the sort we had slept in the first night with golden leaves crowning them. In these trees there was a great flat platform like the ones we'd slept in the first night, only this was much higher and grander. Studding the hills like jewels were silver, gold and palest green flowers. Oh, after all mine eyes had seen in this land beautiful and horrific alike, nothing had yet struck me as did this scene of utter tranquility.

"Behold! You are come to Cerin Amroth." said Haldir. "For this is the heart of the ancient realm as it was long ago, and here is the mound of Amroth, where in happier days his high house was built. Here ever bloom the winter flowers in the unfading grass: the yellow _elanor_, and the pale _nimphredeil. _Here we will stay a while before we come to the city of the Galadhrim at dusk."

And I flung myself down on the sweet smelling grass with the others. Though my expression was serene, I was undergoing a powerful internal struggle, much as I had been for the last few suns. Though I had pledged to put Legolas out of mind and heart, I found that I could not. The pain! Oh the pain I felt inside was excruciating. It was as if some great hands were trying to wrench me in two. There was no escaping my love, flee as I might, by holding on to my grief. The effect was an even more unbearable mixture of longing and sorrow. Sighing, I closed my eyes and shut out all the beauty of Lothlorien, in yet another attempt to shut out my love for Legolas.


	8. Blossoms Returned

~Lothlorien~

When the evening shadows fell, and the fair woods of Lothlorien grew quiet and sleepy, we went on to what appeared to me, to be the capital city of the Elves. Where time seemed to stand still. Our path now went into thickets where the dusk had already gathered. Night came beneath the trees as we walked, and the elves uncovered silver lamps.

Suddenly we came into the open again and found ourselves under a pale evening sky pricked by a few early stars. There was a wide, treeless space before us, running in a great circle and bending away on either hand. Beyond it was a deep channel lost in soft shadow, but the grass upon it's brink was green as if it glowed still with the memory of the sun. Upon the further side there rose to a great height, a green wall encircling a green hill thronged with the same silver trunked trees taller and wider than any I had yet seen in that land. Their height cound not be guessed for they stretched toward the heavens like the extended arms of the earth. In their ever many branches lights gleamed all around so that the trees themselves were like living reflections of the night sky. If I had tried to shut my eyes to the beauty of this place I would have failed misrably. I now understood why the elves liked to dance and sing in the woodlands, for in this place of enchanting beauty I had the very same urge. The majesty and wonder of this ageless place eveloped me completely.

"Welcome to Caras Galadhon!" said Haldir, turning to us. "Here is the city of the Galadhrim, where dwell the Lord Celeborn and Galadriel the Lady of Lorien. But we cannot enter here, for the gates do not look northward. We must go round to the southern side, and the way is not short for the city is great."

Along a delicate stone path he took us around the city, and as the night deepened, more lights sprang forth, so that the trees now seemed to glitter and sparkle. We came at last to a white bridge, and crossing it found ourselves at the gates of the city. They were tall and strong, hung with many lamps. Haldir knocked and spoke and the gates opened soundlessly and we passed them. They swung closed again. We were now in the city of the Trees and though we saw no one on the paths, we could hear many voices above and around us. Far away we could hear singing as well.

We walked many paths and climbed many stairs until we came to the high places and saw before us amid a wide plain, a fountain shimmering. It was lit by silver lamps that hung from the boughs of the trees and it fell into a basin of silver from which a white stream spilled. Upon the south side of the hill a great tree rose taller and at once more grand and more beautiful than all the others. A white stair wound its' way around the trunk of this tree in great spirals. At the foot of this stair were seated three Elves clad in grey mail and long white cloaks. They sprang to their feet as we approached with Haldir.

"Here dwellrr Celeborn and Galadriel. It is their wish that you should ascend and speak with them."

One of the elf wardens blew a short clear note on his horn, and it was answered three times from above.

"I will go first." said Haldir. "Let Frodo come next, and with him Legolas. The others may follow as they wish. It is a long climb for those who are not accustomed to such stairs, but you may rest upon the way."

I waited for only a short while before climing the great stair behind Legolas. It was indeed a long climb and I did have to stop along the way several times, but there was much to keep my mind occupied. I saw several more great platforms and many elves that looked at me in a curious way, yet somehow their gaze was knowing. When I finally reached the top I was greeted by name from the Lord Celeborn.

"Welcome, Shreya Jaidev, descendant of Brahma the Preserver from across the Sea. Three ages it has been since our people have had tidings from Imtros."

At these startling words I fell to my knees and bowed low to the Lord and Lady. So beautiful were they that I grew misty eyed in their glory.

"The Lord and Lady are too kind." I said humbly.

"Rise, Daughter of the Sea." He said.

I rose on weak legs and went to sit with the others. When we were all seated before the Lord and Lady, he looked at us again and spoke.

"Here there are nine. Ten set out from Rivendell: so said the messages. But maybe there has been some change of council that we have not yet heard. Elrond is far away and darkness gathers between us, and all this year shadows have grown longer."

"Nay, there was no change of council." said the Lady, speaking for the first time. "Gandalf the Grey set out with the company but he did not pass the borders of this land. Now tell us where he is; for I much desired to speak with him again. But I cannot see him from afar, unless he comes within the fences of Lothlorien: a grey mist is about him and the ways of his feet and of his mind are hidden from me."

I was in awe; could this great elf see beyond the veil of death?

"Alas!" cried Aragorn. "Gandalf the Grey fell into shadow. He remained in Moria and did not escape."

At these words the elves in the hall cried out in grief and amazement.

"These are evil tidings." said Celeborn. "the most evil that have been spoken here in long years full of grievous deeds."

He said something in elvish to Haldir.

"We have not spoken to Haldir of our deeds or our purpose." said Legolas, hurriedly explaining the reason for this.

We then recounted our tales briefly and a simple exchange of information ensued. The Lady was understanding and loving of us and I found simply that I liked her. There is no need to go into long and detailed accounts of my feelings toward the Lady, other than to say that in my direction she silently offered understanding and friendship. In fact, she quite reminded me of Arwen. As I sensed the meeting coming to a close she said to us,

"But I will say this to you: your quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the company is true."

And she looked into each pair of our eyes in turn, long and hard. When her gaze fell upon me, and the silver fountain of her eyes met the rippling waves of turquoise that were mine, I heard a whisper in my mind. It came from within me and yet it sounded foreign.

"Your love is now mingled with grief, child of the water. You feel torn between honor and longing. Tell me, if Legolas Thranduilion were to ask you to return with him to Mirkwood and abandon the Quest, would you accept?"

At these words, in my mind flashed all the scenes of my frequent fantasies and desires over the years. And I felt the great desire that had collected inside of me for so long. Then, unbidden came the memory of Gandalf speaking to me in Elrond's garden, and the image of Gandalf facing the Balrog on the bridge.

"No."

"Then doubt your intentions no longer." the whisper replied.

I nodded, and cast my eyes to the floor for they had become misty again.

Near the fountain I have mentioned, a pavillion was set for us to sleep in. In here the elves thoughtfully placed many soft couches. I felt as a bucket that had been drained, and I threw myself on one of these couches and said nothing at all as the company discussed the night before, only thought of the hands that held me steady in the darkness. The discussion soon turned to the words the Lady had put in our minds, and I quickly pretended to have fallen asleep. It seemed that she had offered everyone the choice of something he greatly desired over continuing the quest. They agreed that this had been some kind of test of hers, though Boromir thought she had some ulterior motive. This notion was quickly squashed by Aragorn, like it was a dangerous insect. At that point, I truthfully fell asleep.

The days in the Lorien were beautiful and the nights were peaceful, but even here, in this enchanted place my heart still stirred and longed for something more. With no threats here to keep me distracted, I found it impossible to keep my thoughts away from Legolas. So much so that when the others walked through the lands I did not go with them, but chose to walk on my own and try to flee my misery. But of course, we can never escape the misery that resides within us. Legolas was gone much of the time with the other elves, and I couldn't help but think that was where he belonged. We would always belong with our own, never with one another in the eyes of the world. I had tears at these thoughts and stayed away from the pavillion for the remainder of that night. The others knew or guessed that I was troubled, but while they mourned the loss of Gandalf, none spoke to me about it.

One night, nearing the end of our stay, when the elves had brought our dinner down I asked them if there was a place that I could bathe, for my skin was dry and my clothes were soiled. They smiled and directed me to a small pool in a bed of stone quite some ways from the pavillion. Legolas would be eating with us that night and so I left without eating, for I feared that if I looked at him my eyes would tell all that I felt.

The pool was in a small thicket well hidden from all. It was deep and it steamed and small bubbles rose to its surfaces from little cracks in the bottom of it. I had seen hot springs like this before, and thanked the elves most graciously for allowing me to use it. They smiled that queer, knowing smile of theirs and excused themselves.

The night was one of the cooler ones and the lights in the trees made the water sparkle like liquid diamond. I disrobed with an almost indecent haste, for I so longed to feel water on my skin again. It rained here in Lothlorien from time to time but it was never enough to satisfy me. I washed the outer robe first and hung it over a branch to dry. Then, after I had washed the shirt and the pants and hung those too, I stood, naked on the side of the pool looking into its water. Then for the first time in ages it seemed, I smiled, savoring the moment before my skin would be quenched.

When I jumped in it felt as though I was reuniting with myself from another time. I swam to the bottom, allowing my long hair to become fully saturated. We of the Isle of Imtros can hold our breath for as long as we please, and no matter how long we remain in the water, our skin never prunes. I sat on the bottom of the pool for quite some time, letting my hair flow around me, and enjoying the weightless feeling of the water. I swam in circles, twisting and turning my body this way and that. I had never felt better during my stay in Lothlorien than I had in the pool. Its waters were refreshing, warm and cleansing. The tiny bubbles clung to my skin, lifting the soil and much of my worries for a short time. After I had bathed to my hearts content, I stepped out and felt the fabric of my garments. Only the outer robe and sash had dried and so I put those on and waited for the others to dry. Night had completely fallen by this time, and so after waiting a long while it seemed, I drifted off, for I had slept poorly for the last few nights.

I was roused by Legolas, who had laid a hand on my shoulder. I know it was Legolas because when I lifted my head, I saw him looking down at me. I stood up and apologized for falling asleep, thinking I had stumbled into one of my own dreams.

"What is amiss?" I asked thinking that he'd been sent to tell me something disturbing. His face was calm, and he was dressed in a silver shirt of the kind the other elves of Lothlorien wear.

"Haldir and his company saw a hawk flying over the wood. They thought it was an enemy spy and shot it down."

"Osira..." I said quietly.

"When they found it, they saw that it bore a message and brought it to the Lord and Lady. The Lady read this message and called for me. She asked me to bring it to you."

He held the small scroll out to me. I took it gingerly. It said,

_I hope you are well little sister. Father and Mother have returned home. Father has now declared you bansihed and exiled as our law stipulates. I have stayed behind in Rivendell hoping to hear from you. I know that you will find what it is that you are looking for. I send this with love little sister, for no law can change our kinship. Fare well little sister. May you always find what you seek._

I looked up and saw that Legolas was watching me intently. I looked away into the trees.

"My father has banished me." I said finally, feeling the familiar despair. "I have deserted... and am past all forgivness."

"No," he said suddenly. I looked at him and he was looking at me with a fire in his eyes. "I am the one who must be forgiven."

"I do not understand." I said. This I said with complete honesty. The moment had taken on a surreal quality, and I wondered again whether this was not a dream.

"Perhaps..." he said, looking at me almost beseechingly. "If you had only known the truth."

"The truth?" I said...for I could think of nothing else to say. He looked away from me then. He smiled faintly, staring at nothing in particular. He looked as though he were recalling something that pleased him; a joyful memory.

"Some years ago..." he began. "I was on my way back to my Father's home in Mirkwood. I saw a mortal girl weeping beneath our beech tree. I stopped to restore the smile to her fair face."

He looked at me again, a warm smile on his face. My chest felt tight. I was rooted to the spot, standing in front of him. Finally I managed to swallow the lump of emotion that was lodged in my thoat and spoke quietly,

"You...remember me?"

"How could I not?" he said. "I have met so many men, and all find it difficult to look me in the eyes for longer than a moment. All so deceitful. Yet here was a child who was willing to allow me to see straight into her. Did you never wonder why my father had asked yours to return to Mirkwood?"

I could not look at him any longer, for I feared if I did, I might float away into the starry night and never be seen again.

"I wish only that you might have told me long ago." I said at last.

"What could I do?" he said desperately."Your father would have never allowed you to leave him...and so...I stood aside."

I felt him move closer to me.

"But I cannot any longer. I have hope..."

I heard him shifting his clothes slightly. I looked at him and saw that he held the twig of beech blossoms in his hand.

"...that it is not too late."

I looked at my now battle worn hands, seeing them for the first time as hands that Legolas had made.

"Every step I have taken," I whispered. "Since I was that child under the tree, has been in the hope of bringing myself closer to you."

When I said these words, I felt all the heat of my body rise into my face. I felt I might float up into the air like a piece of ash from a fire, unless I could find something to focus on. I looked down at the pool, knowing that every longing thought I'd had over the last (decade) was now bubbling to the surface. I tried to locate every crack in the bottom of the spring, but already it was becoming glazed and hazy.

"Be not afraid to look upon me...Aearelen."

I wanted so desperately to look at Legolas, but I could not.

"It is a strange fate," he said almost to himself, taking a step toward me. "That one who looked me so frankly in the eye as a girl cannot bring herself to do it now as a woman."

Perhaps it ought to have been a simple task to raise my eyes and look at Legolas; and yet somehow I couldn't have felt more nervous than if I stood in the middle of a grand hall in front of a city of stangers. We stood beside the pool, so close that when at length I wiped my eyes and raised them to meet his, I could see the dark navy rings around his irises. So close now that I could smell his scent of the forest. He tenderly reached up and gathered me up in his arms as he might a blanket. In a moment our faces were so close, I could feel the warmth of his skin. I was still struggling to understand what had happened to me, and what I ought to do or say. And then Legolas pulled me closer, and he kissed me.

This kiss, the first real one of my life, seemed to me more intimate than anything I'd ever experienced. I had the feeling that I was taking something from Legolas, and that he was giving something to me, something more private than anything I'd been given before. There was a certain very startling taste, as distinctive as any fruit or sweet, and when I tasted it, my shoulders sagged and my stomach welled up. For the kiss recalled to my mind dozens of different things I couldn't think why I should remember. I thought of the waves crashing into the sand of Imtros. I saw in my mind the head of steam that gushes forth when one lifts the lid off a pot. I'm sure I thought of a hundred other things besides, for it was as if all the boundaries of my mind had broken down and all my memories had run free. But then Legolas leaned back away from me again, with one of his hands upon my neck. He was so close I could see the moisture glistening on his lip and still smell the kiss that had just ended. I was so overcome with relief that I could not stop the tears that spilled from the corners of my eyes. He kissed the tears that rolled freely down my cheeks and held fast to me, as if now that he had me, he would never again let me go.

We walked then through the sparkling silver woods of Lothlorien, his hand in mine. We said nothing, only savored the sensation of being together at last. Everything that I gazed upon seemed beautiful in a way that it hadn't before.

At length we came to a patch of the ever green grass circled by a small ring of very young trees. It was here that we rested. I truly believed, that while I lay there with my head on his chest, I heard all the grieving voices within me fall silent. For ever since the day I'd left Mirkwood, I'd done nothing but worry that every turn of life's wheel would bring yet another obstacle into my path. And of course it was the worry and the struggle that had made my journeys to, and within Middle Earth so vividly real to me, as my days in Imtros had never been. When we fight upstream against a rocky undercurrent, every foothold takes on a kind of urgency.

He said to me later as we walked back to the pavillion that he now felt like a tree whose roots had at last broken into the rich, wet, deep soil beneath the surface. I said that before I came to Mirkwood I'd felt like I'd been plummeting towards the rocks at the base of the sea cliffs, and that he had stepped out to catch me.

I write these words now with a peaceful heart. A heart that is at rest in the warm comforting glow of love that is returned at last. I am no longer afraid, though I know there is still much to fear. I cannot say what guides us in this life, but I know now that for me I fell toward this Elven prince just as a stone must fall toward the earth. When my father had shouted at me during the Council of Elrond, when Gandalf spoke words of courage to me in the garden, it was all like a stream that falls over rocky cliffs before it can reach the ocean.

I know not what the future brings for this quest, but I will walk from the Lorien with no fear in my heart. For now it is flooded with love. It is possible that I walk to my doom, but no despair stirrs now in my heart. For good or for ill, I will keep to this path. While everything that ever happened to me beforehand was dictated by someone else, I chose this path. And I shall follow it, with Legolas at my side.


	9. Shreya writes Again

(Notes: Well since I'm at a turning point in the story I have decided to give some fun facts about my choices of the charachters names. FACT 1: The names of the people of Imtros are actually indian and hindu names. I just think that they sound pretty. FACT 2: Due to the heavy influence of Mulan on Shreya's charachter, I christened her horse "Khan." which is the name of Mulan's horse. FACT 3: The sword Shiva, is actually named after the hindu God, part three of the hindu holy trinity. The name means "The destroyer." That's all for now. More to come though on my next set of notes. Synopsis brought to you by Douglas Eckhart. I decided to include a few slight alterations in the original plot, credit to Peter Jackson. (He was actually at a Barnes and Noble in a neighboring town recently--omg--exciting.) Oh PS Thank you all so much for giving me good reviews. They keep me writing more! )

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After the company left the Lothlorien, Shreya did not write anything more until she, Legolas, Aragron, Gimli, and Gandalf had reached Edoras. This is obviously quite a period and so it is up to the archeologist (me) and the translator (Naiad) to fill in the blanks. We can only conclude from the last entry and the gap that followed that Shreya no longer felt the need to write after she consumated her love with Legolas. We see in all other works of literary geinus, that the work of the best quality arises out of struggle, tumult, and despair. From Edgar Allen Poe (who published such works as The Tell Tale Heart only after his beloved wife passed away) to J.K. Rowling, (who suffered from depression and contemplated suicide when she wrote the beginnings of Harry Potter) this fact is true of great authors. Shreya had a reprieve from her previous despair and worry when she and Legolas were finally able to express their love for one another. And so when the Lady of the Wood pressed into her hands a fresh book of parchment as her parting gift she wrote only this for an explanation:

"It is as if I am carrying a torch inside of me. It is a torch that will never go out. No water can douse it, and no wind can blow the heat of it away. It lights my way even in utter darkness, and no despair or wearyness can enter within its' rays."

Shreya left her old journal with the Elves of Lothlorien for safekeeping and continiued on. Unfortunately we have no accounts from her of her travellings from Lothlorien to Edoras in Rohan. It is not diffuclt to see why for she scarecly had the time or the energy. We do however, have acconts from others and so we will now recount them very breifly to you. After leaving Lothlorien, the Company traveled southwards down the Anduin, the Great River, on the elven-boats for several days. The creature Gollum is now following them on a log of wood, which is potentially dangerous not only because of Gollum himself but also because he could attract the attention of Orcs holding the lands east of the river. They also noticed an eagle far up in the sky, and decided to travel by night to minimise the chances of being spotted. One night they came very close to the Rapids of Sarn Gebir, and were there attacked by Orcs from the east-bank. A strange dark shape flew over them, and Legolas shot it down with his bow; this dismays the enemies, the attack stopped and the Company retreated into a bay a short way up the river. They carried their boats and baggage along an old path past the Rapids, and continued the voyage past the Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings, great statues of Isildur and Anárion built long ago by the Númenóreans. They came near the Falls of Rauros, where their final course was to be be decided: to go east to Mordor, or to turn south towards Minas Tirith.

The Company spent the night on the western bank of the River. The blade of Sting, Frodo's sword, gleamed, indicating that Orcs were not far. The next day they had to decide their future course; the choice lay on Frodo, since the Ringbearer's course could only be decided by the Ringbearer himself. Frodo feels he could make the decision more easily if he was alone, and the others give him an hour to make up his mind. He walks away and meanwhile, Boromir leaves. Aragorn too, leaves some time later. Shreya, Legolas, Gimli and the remaining hobbits are assaulted by many Orcs. Caught in the confusion of battle, they chase many of them away, leaving the hobbits unguarded while still more Orcs are coming. Boromir returns to protect the hobbits, but is slain. Hearing the blasts of Boromir's horn amid the cries of many Orcs, Aragorn returned to help. He comes too late, however: Boromir is already dying, and in his last words he tells Aragorn about his attack on Frodo and about the attack of the Orcs, which have taken the hobbits as prisoners. Gimli, Legolas, and Shreya return soon afterwards, and together they carry Boromir's body into a boat and let it float down the River. They also notice that a boat and Sam's baggage are missing, and conclude that Frodo and Sam must have crossed the River and headed towards Mordor while everybody else was looking for Frodo. Thus it seems unlikely that the remaining four companions could still find them, and Aragorn decides that they will pursue the Orcs and attempt to rescue Merry and Pippin.

They start the chase at once and with greatest speed, for the Orcs have already gained an advantage of several hours. Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas and Shreya continue their chase for three days, running with remarkable speed through the land of Rohan, but to their dismay it seems that Orcs are hardly resting at all, and their advantage is ever increasing. On the fourth day they meet a company of the Rohirrim, the Men of Rohan, led by Éomer, the Third Marshal of Rohan and the nephew of Théoden the King of Rohan. Aragorn explains to them the purpose of their hunt after the Orcs, and Éomer tells that the Rohirrim have attacked and destroyed that band of Orcs two days ago, yet found no hobbits among them. They exchange some news, and Éomer is impressed with Aragorn and the quick journey that he and his three companions have made in the past few days. He gives them leave to travel through Rohan, and gives them spare horses. Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and Shreya continue along the trail and reach the site of the battle near the eaves of the great forest of Fangorn that evening. They find no traces of the hobbits. That night an old man appears (and disappears quickly) near their camp, and all their horses flee; they suspect the man to be the evil wizard Saruman. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Shreya search the site of the battle the following morning, and find a leaf of mallorn and some crumbs of lembas.

With this evidence of the hobbits' presence they continue their search into the forest of Fangorn. Then they meet an old beggar-man whom they believe to be Saruman at first, but he turns out to be Gandalf, who has defeated the Balrog and has now returned stronger than ever, and is now wearing a white robe. Gandalf tells them some news, particularly that the hobbits met Treebeard and that the Ents are heading towards Isengard; he advises them to go to Rohan and help in the war that is preparing there. He calls his horse, Shadowfax, and with him come also Aragorn's and Legolas' horses, who have met him the previous night after having fled in panic. With them, to Shreya's delight, is Khan, who did not return to Rivendell, but went to Rohan where he felt more comfortable. (According to Gandalf.) Gandalf and the four companions ride to Edoras, the court of Théoden the King of Rohan. They go to Meduseld, the hall of king Théoden. They are not very welcome there at first, and are even required to leave their weapons outside before seeing the king. Théoden is under influence of his counsellor Gríma (also called Wormtongue) who has convinced him that Gandalf is always a sign of nearing trouble, and should not be welcome. Gandalf silences Wormtongue with a bolt of lightning, and takes the king outside, into the fresh air and the light of the day. Here Théoden realises that listening to Gríma's whispers he felt much older and weaker than he really was, but he still doesn't open his heart to Gandalf's advice and issues orders that the city of Edoras must empty, and flee to Helm's Deep. Wormtongue objects this, but Gandalf reveals him as Saruman's spy; Théoden gives him the choice of joining the war or leaving for ever, and Gríma rides away. It is here, in the brief calm of Theoden's hall that Shreya begins to write again.

* * *

The Great Kingdom of Rohan ~ Edoras ~ Meduseld.

If someone had told me six moons ago that I would have been in three battles, that Legolas had returned my feelings all along, and that I would be here in Rohan now, I would have laughed and said that they had drunk too much wine. Yet here I sit, for the first time in a hall of other Men in Middle Earth.

O, so much has happed since I last wrote. Too much to explain entirely. From Lothlorien, we traveled down the Great River Anduin, were separated from the Hobbits by strange and large Orcs, and were persuing the ones that had captured Meriadoc and Peregirn when Gandalf appeared to us in a great forest called Fangorn. I was much pleased by this and the return of Khan. It seems that nothing is impossible in this great land, not even a return from death. We came to Edoras today and later Gandalf single handedly freed the King from some unseen, internal affliction. The King's advisor, a man called Wormtoungue departed shortly afterward. Gandalf had unveiled him to be a servant of the traitor; the wizard Saruman. Now I take refuge in this quiet---the eye of the storm---to write again of my travels.

It is indeed a very brief quiet, for after we have finished eating we will be riding out again, to a place called "Helm's Deep." I know not of this place and left my map on the banks of Anduin. The King looks at me. I know that I must appear very strange to him. It seems that the Men of these lands are as ignorant of Imtros as I am to their homelands. He has asked if I would like a shirt of mail or a helm or a spear, and I have declined, for those things would only encumber me. I think he took offense to that, though I meant none. Their way of life is more civilized than I would have guessed by seeing the gruffness of Aragorn, but it is still very primitive to me. Their common dwellings are of rough stone with thatched roofs, seemingly primitive but no doubt effective against the elements. And it seems that every corner of this city stinks of horses. They hold horses very highly in this country and I wonder if they do not worship them. The royal building is much lovlier than these, but it still appears rough to me. However, it occurs to me that not all the Kings of this world may have graceful rooms of alabaster stone, or allow sweet perfumes of incense to drift though their halls. Their government too, is flawed in mine eyes. It is said in Imtros that a King who does not answer to his people's wishes, is a King who will lose his head. Even the men of the Senate are not completely in power in my country, for they are elected by the people themselves. But for the time being, the people of Rohan seem contented enough by the absolute monarchy. I am amazed that their loyalty does not waver, even when it was announced that the city must empty. I look now at Legolas, who looks back smiling faintly. My heart beats faster.

As Aragorn does not speak of his love for the Lady Arwen, so Legolas and I do not speak openly of our love for each other. I suspect that Aragorn and Gimli know more or less what has happened, but the fact that they do not call attention to it, shows the respect that they have for one another. And I am quite sure that Gandalf, in his infinite wisdom, knows all too well of it. In the foolish hopes that had been so dear to me since girlhood, I'd always fancied that my life would be perfect if Legolas came to return my love. It is a childish thought, and yet I'd carried it with me even as a woman. I ought to have known better. I am still a part of this great Quest which is quickly becoming a war. But now there is Legolas, and even though the only times we feel comfortable enough to express ourselves freely are times late at night, when the others are in slumber, I am still heartend by it. I seem to live now for those rare moments when we are alone together. I wait for those brief instances when I can move close enough to him to breathe deep his scent of the woods, and feel the ever warm flesh of his elven skin. Those precious minutes keep my strength and spirit flowing through me as strong as the wind and tides. Perhaps it is a blessing that my time with Legolas is so brief, for I feel that I appriciate his qualities much more by virtue of it.

~The wide plains of Rohan~

Our progress has been slow so far. Though this is the land of horses, many many people go on foot, and some are so old or sick that they cannot walk at all. In five hours it seemed our great caravan had barely moved. This causes our journey to be all the more difficult and makes the men who are acting as our guard particularly on edge. These wide grasslands are beautiful, but dreadfully open. The air is hot for this season, and I feel more comfortable for this. I was growing terribly weary of the bitter cold. I look now at the sweating men of Rohan riding beside me and smirk, for earlier in the day they had laughed at the lightness of my dress.

Night closed about us and at last we stopped to make our camp. I do not know what the people ahead are doing, but we, as the rearguard have set up tents. We do not light fires, lest we draw attention and there are night guards situated all around.


End file.
